Quintessence of Life: Mysteries Unveiled
by Penelope Clemence
Summary: Sheriff Vaisey, Guy, and others travel to the Holy Land to assassinate King Richard. The head-spinning events happen in Acre, the dark mysteries of the past are unmasked, and dramatic reconciliation is achieved. But the fight is not over, and the Black Knights have a trump card up their sleeve. This is part two of the long epic (trilogy).
1. Prologue

_This is the second part of the long epic "Quintessence of Life", a long and captivating epic about love, hatred, politics, treachery, and mysteries. This part is called "Mysteries Unveiled". If you didn't read the first part of the epic – "Mysteries of the Past", I recommend that you read it at first and only then come back to this story. Otherwise you risk failing to understand many twists and events in this story. _

_The part "Mysteries unveiled" begins with the events in Nottingham as Sheriff Vaisey and his accomplices depart to the Holy Land to kill King Richard and Robin Hood._ _Later,_ _t__he head-spinning events happen in Acre, the dark mysteries of the past are unmasked, and dramatic reconciliation is achieved. Yet, the fight is not over, and the Black Knights have a trump card up their sleeve. _

_The main characters of the story are Robin and Guy. _

_If you choose to read this story/novel, I think you will like it. Yet, if you are an extremely devoted fan of any pairing (Robin/Marian or Guy/Marian), then you may find it somewhat difficult to accept the fact that, in spite of marrying Guy, Marian's feelings are shown as torn between Robin and Guy, as it was on the show in the end of season 2, but then something happens and many things change. I am trying to devote enough time to every main character – Robin, Guy, Marian – and the existing relationships, whatever they are – the Guy/Marian relationship, or the Robin/Marian relationship, or the Robin/Melisende relationship._

_The plot is largely focused on the political aspect of Robin Hood's cause – fighting for England and King Richard. The second part of Season 2 was largely about Robin's efforts to save the king and defeat the Black Knights, and this story has a similar plotline. Robin is portrayed as the king's man and the people's hero, but anyway more as the king's man._

_The love component of this story/novel includes Robin/Melisende, Robin/Marian, Guy/Marian, Guy/Meg, Will/Djaq, Prince John/Isabella, and some other relationships. The love triangle of Marian, Robin Hood, and Guy of Gisborne is analyzed in details through actions and thoughts of the characters. _

_The plot is not absolutely historically accurate. Nevertheless, there are many events from history, like the end of the Third Crusade. Some historical events are changed for fictional purposes._

_There is no character bashing in this story/novel. No character is placed on a pedestal, even Robin. I am not hostile to any particular character and try to be fair to Robin, Guy, Marian, the sheriff, and other characters. I am trying to portray everyone more or less closer to the reality (what we had on the show). Yet, some actions/situations may be interpreted as out-of-character, but this is alternative reality and fiction, and there can be some deviations from an original portrayal/case._

_Please be aware that there are scenes of violence and bloodshed. There are also extremely sensitive scenes, very emotional and dramatic._

_Reviews are appreciated. Constructive criticism is always welcome. I would be very grateful if you find a minute to write a review. I only ask you to be polite and tolerant as I believe that if people begin to criticize the story without explaining what they dislike, it creates unhealthy tension._

_Undoubtedly, I don't own the characters and the show. I hope you will enjoy reading "Mysteries Unveiled"._

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><p><strong>Quintessence of Life<strong>

**Part 2**

**Mysteries Unveiled**

**Prologue**

In the brilliant sunshine of the April afternoon, Robin of Locksley was slowly making his way through the streets of Acre. He was dressed in an ankle-length and loose robe made out of the finest red, white, and blue silk in an Arabic fashion. He covered his head with a ghutra, fastened on his face with a red-and-white egal, which had completely hidden his sandy-colored hair and his only slightly tanned skin; only his pale blue eyes betrayed his true origin. He looked like a rich Saracen merchant, and on his waist there was a silver sheathed scimitar, which he wore to protect himself from robbers.

Today Robin wasn't accompanied by the king's guards and even by Much. He needed to explore the surroundings by himself, not attracting attention to his famous persona in the Holy Land. He needed to hear everything discussed by the Saracen inhabitants of Acre – from secret conversations to idle chats to simple rumors; he had to be King Richard's ears and eyes in the city of Acre. For that reason, Robin disguised himself as a Saracen and strolled down the streets of the city.

Robin wandered around the streets of Acre, his head high, his spine straight, his gait proud and lofty. He nodded at the Muslims, but he never made a long eye contact with anyone for the sake of keeping his identity in secret. He didn't want someone to remark the color of his eyes – pale blue, which showed that he wasn't a Saracen. He also didn't stop and ask for directions in the city, for he knew the plan of Acre very well and could get anywhere within the walls even in the nighttime.

In the past weeks, Robin of Locksley, Robert de Beaumont, Carter Leighton of Stretton, and several other king's men regularly disguised themselves in Saracen clothes and lazily strolled down the streets of Acre, meddling with the crowds of the Muslims and other Crusaders. It was a new confidential method of conducting reconnaissance by the king's men for the sake of protecting King Richard from the Black Knights and Vaisey's Saracen allies.

After Robin had killed Robert de Sablé, Grand Master of the Knights Templar, it became clear that Prince John would again try to assassinate the rightful King of England. Robin and his friends expected Sheriff Vaisey, Gisborne, and other accomplices to come to Acre in the next several months.

As a result, the security measures were significantly toughened, and the new methods of conducting reconnaissance were introduced at Robin's initiative. Robin, Robert, Carter, and three people spoke excellent Arabic, and it was not difficult for them to understand what the people in the streets talked about. Robin and his friends desperately hoped that they would hear something that could have led them to the sheriff's Turkish allies who, they believed, had a hideout somewhere in Acre.

As he explored the Genoese, the Pisan, and the Venetian quarters, Robin visited several local marketplaces with warehouses and shops, taking in his surroundings. After he had almost crisscrossed the three merchant quarters, he headed to the harbor. He passed the headquarters of the Hospitallers and the Knights Templar, his gaze wandering around and always stopping at the Accursed Tower, which was a kind of guideline for him not to lose his bearings in case taking a wrong path.

As Robin was approaching the harbor, the streets grew wider, with every space overcrowded by too many people. As on most afternoons before the hours of evening prayer, large crowds filled the streets, heading toward or returning from the bustling marketplace in the center of Acre. Servants ran from their masters' houses to shops, and then returned with goods purchased. The Crusaders that controlled the city settled disputes and kept the peace. Wealthy merchants argued among themselves about the price of ivory or cloth or wheat or some Arabic delicacies. Sailors and others wandered through various inns and taverns, searching for a new adventure or just a good barroom brawl.

"Life seems to be prosperous and calm in Acre. It is so difficult to imagine that there are only death and bloodshed and yellow sand outside the walls of the city," Robin mused.

The sun was hot, so hot that Robin feared it might set the fire alight on his head. There was no breeze blowing from the sea, and the still air was drenched with the stink of oil and sweat. In the sweltering heat, Robin became more impatient, cursing the heat over and over again, yet forcing himself to stay calm and continue walking down the narrow streets of the city.

Several weeks passed since they had started using this new method of reconnaissance, but they didn't find any trace of Vaisey's Muslim allies in Acre yet. Nobody of the king's disguised men heard anything about anyone's plans to attempt regicide or any reference to Vaisey. The king's spies in the Angevin Empire knew nothing new about the plans of the Black Knights to assassinate the king or usurp power in any other way. It was lull before the storm, and obviously something was going to happen.

"I begin to think that this reconnaissance will give us nothing," Robin thought as he crossed the street and then turned around the corner in the narrow alley. "But Vaisey will come to Acre and will try to kill King Richard. There is no way he will stay out of the matter. He will come."

Today, traveling through the city, Robin heard many people discussing the Third Crusade and the perspective of making peace with Saladin. Many times, he heard Christian knights speak freely about Robin of Locksley, captain of the king's private guard and the man whom they considered the main peace-maker in the Holy Land.

Robin didn't hear anything interesting, which was directly or indirectly connected with the Shah Mat Operation. He overheard many conversations of Christians, and very few of them were hungry for money, and even fewer wished a new adventure in the Holy Land. Merchants hoped that peace with Saladin would result in a decrease of taxes and an increase of turnover in the port of Acre. Everyone wished the Crusade to be over – everyone wanted peace. He overheard only two weaponsmiths talking about the Crusade with enthusiasm; they were an exception from the general trend.

The late afternoon sun was just reaching the horizon, and many businesses were closing. The Saracens hurried to attend the evening prayer in mosques. Robin didn't follow their example and continued walking down the street, hurrying to be on the main street adjacent to the harbor. Soon only few Crusaders patrolled the streets, but Robin knew that many Christian soldiers would appear in several hours, going to exotic brothels to indulge themselves in sins of flesh.

Robin continued walking straight ahead, his eyes wandering around, his mind concentrated. He heard only the loud laughter of night guard patrolling the city and the sounds of evening prayer. Suddenly, he noticed two shadowy figures ahead of him, and those two Saracens apparently didn't want to be seen or heard by anyone. Pressing himself to the walls of buildings, Robin followed the two men, who kept going up the narrow street, skulking in and out of alleyways, lanes, and streets.

The sun had long set behind the sandy hills, and the shades of evening hung over the sandy dunes and the small gardens of houses along the street. They were heading somewhere to the suburbs of Acre, and it unnerved Robin, his heart hammering harder and harder in anxiety mingled with fear.

At first, Robin thought that the two Saracens were waiting for unwary travelers or drunken adventurers to stumble into their traps and then rob them. But the more he followed them, the more suspicious they seemed to be. The Saracens stopped near a tavern and entered. Robin hid himself behind the corner of the nearby building and waited. Luckily, the Saracens walked out of the tavern in just a minute and marched down the street, and Robin followed them.

Robin's misgivings grew as they moved away further from the center of the city, towards the suburbs of Acre. They were not alone on the road: pale figures of patrolling Crusaders flitted through the night all around. Robin continued following the two men, noiselessly and creepingly, and the Saracens had no idea that they were tracked down; the years of service in the king's private guard provided the young Captain with a great experience to walk through walls and stay undetected by everyone.

The Saracens paused at the crossroads, and Robin stopped as well, pressing himself to the walls of another building. Robin stood and watched the Saracens; then he looked back and could see the city laid out beneath him, a chain of watch-fires surrounding the lamplit streets and churches. To his left, on the eastern side, a smaller cordon of light marked out the dimensions of the Citadel of Acre and the Accursed Tower; Robin knew the location, and this knowledge calmed him down.

"Nasir, have you heard anything from our Christian friend?" one of the Saracens asked in Arabic. "I mean something about Sheriff Vaisey or Guy of Gisborne."

"Karim, I haven't heard anything interesting. We should wait more," Nasir replied, also in Arabic.

Robin swallowed hard; his heart pounded in sickening thuds as he tried to strain his ears. The reconnaissance finally gave a result: it seemed that he was able to discover Vaisey's Muslim allies. He frowned, wondering who their Christian friend was.

Then Robin felt someone tug at his hand, and he turned his head, staring into Robert's pale green eyes. He turned his head, and his gaze met Carter's deep blue eyes. Robin shook his head, then sighed with relief that he wasn't alone there.

"What are we going to do? Are we going to kill Melek-Ric before he makes peace with Saladin?" Karim inquired, his voice edged with the notes of anxiety and irritation. "If Robin of Locksley formed an alliance with the Hashashin, then they are likely to begin the negotiations with Saladin very soon."

"We must get rid of Melek-Ric before he makes peace with Saladin," Nasir replied quietly.

"We failed to kill the barbarian king so many times," Karim said discomposedly. "We can kill the king on the day of Captain Locksley's upcoming wedding. There will be many people in the streets; we will be able to blend with the crowd and kill Melek-Ric."

"No, no, no," Nasir contradicted with determination. "There will be too many people there. The security measures will be toughened so much that even a fly won't find a way to be near the wedding cortege."

"But we must kill Melek-Ric! He must pay for the crimes he committed in our lands!"

"Karim, don't be so hotheaded. We cannot act without a signal from England," a categorical answer followed. "I also want Melek-Ric dead, but we cannot act without Lord Vaisey. We should wait."

"When will Vaisey come to Acre, Nasir?"

"Today I had a meeting with our spy in the Crusaders' camp," Nasir informed. "He told me that the sheriff should arrive in the Holy Land soon. Maybe he is already on the way to Acre from England."

Robin clenched his fists as anger gripped him like a mighty flame. Strong waves of fury mingled with dread hammered into him, his heart was beating to suffocation. He exhaled, feeling simultaneously agitated, disappointed, and frightened. But despite the wealth of emotions coursing through him, his face was entirely expressionless in so far as either fear or anger was concerned.

Now Robin understood who their Christian friend was. There was an unknown wretched spy among the king's men, but it was extremely difficult to uncover the villain. Robin had little hope to identify the spy, who seemed to be so skilful and so sly, unless the man committed at least a little mistake by chance, giving the Crusaders a precious opportunity of succeeding in finding the traitor.

"It would be great if our spy learnt something else," Karim said with annoyance.

"He does everything he can. He has to be very cautious."

"I just hope that we won't lose our last spy in the king's camp."

"Our spy ordered us to wait and not to act without the sheriff," Nasir said strictly. "He said that Vaisey is a resourceful and cunning man. He swore that the sheriff would be able to outwit the king's guards, especially Robin of Locksley and Robert de Beaumont."

"So we wait for the sheriff's arrival and then kill the king," Karim summarized.

"Yes," Nasir confirmed. "Now let's go from here. Hurry up."

Robin, Carter, and Robert wanted to follow the two conspirators. Unfortunately, they were spotted by the two patrolling Crusaders who headed directly to them, intending to check the hiding Saracens. Robin and Robert didn't plan to let the others know their true identities; they ambushed the Crusaders and escaped. They ran away as fast as their legs could carry them, heading to the harbor and then to the Genoese quarter, where they had a secret place to remove their disguise and change their clothes.

By the time they had reached the Genoese quarter, the streets were already completely dark. Although the Genoese quarter didn't have an access to the sea, unlike the Venetian and the Pisan quarters which had been built by merchants nearby the port, a slight breeze still sprang up there and swept the sand from the ground into whimsical patterns around the running men. Everything around went deathly quiet as they finally stopped near a one-storied building and gulped in breaths of the fresh air.

Robin stared at the flickering lights at one of the windows. "It is such a great pity that we missed them. If those two Crusaders weren't so interested in us, we could have followed Vaisey's allies and discover their nest." His voice sounded tired and frustrated.

"There was no way we could have followed those Saracens," Robert said in soothing tones, though he had also been frustrated.

Carter sighed. "We couldn't have allowed our fellow men to learn that the king's highly favored generals had disguised themselves as local populace and strolled in the city."

Robin didn't speak for a while. He raised his eyes and looked at the sky. Numerous bright stars came out, glimmering in the dark sky above the city of Acre.

The night sky was very beautiful and clear in the desert, but today it was somehow different, for it was both lighter and darker in different parts of the dark canvas; the flaming stars of different hues were set in velvet folds of deepest indigo, midnight blue, and even light blue. The moon gleamed and loomed huge on the horizon, and the picture was so clear and vivid that they could see the craters and scars on its surface livid with dark shadows.

Robin grunted a laugh. "At least we know their names – Karim and Nasir."

Robert laughed back. "Do you know how many people with these names live in Acre?"

Robin turned his gaze at his friend. "At least we have learnt something new about Vaisey's allies," he said between clenched teeth. "And we also know that we have another traitor among us."

Carter frowned. "It was naïve to hope that we uncovered all traitors in the recent massacre."

"It appears that we were mistaken," Robert concluded.

"We will have to do something. I will think of something," Robin murmured.

Robert swept his eyes over the central square in the Genoese quarter. "We should go."

"Yes. The king will be worried," Robin retorted, a grim grin hovering over his lips.

Robert grinned. "Our liege misses us."

"The king always misses us," Carter said with satisfaction. "But this time we have bad news for him."

The moon disappeared behind the cloud, and the inky darkness descended upon the city. The magic of the pale moonlight lost its enchantment, and Robin felt the dull ache of loneliness, as well as pleasure, for the darkness reliably covered his fears and insecurities. A sick feeling began to settle in his stomach, together with a vague sense of terror that churned with increasing ferocity. He was very nervous that they had a traitor in the king's camp.

By the time when they returned to the camp, it had already been past midnight. They looked like Crusaders after they had changed their clothes in the Genoese quarter.

But despite the late hour, they didn't plan to go to bed, for they had to share with King Richard urgent news about Sheriff Vaisey and the planned regicide attempts. Night was young, and they had many hours ahead to discuss their findings and invent a new plan of action.

§§§

The April night was chilly and very clear. The sky was dark blue, sparkling with dew and starlight, and utter silence reigned in Nottingham. It was a deathlike stillness, like a silence of the tomb, for there were no fluttering birds, no humming insects, no footsteps in the corridors of the castle, and no scurrying people in the streets. In the night, Nottingham resembled a dead town.

The night didn't in the least resemble a peace for Guy of Gisborne, who was gripped by powerful nightmares. Even in his dreams, he felt the depressing influence of lethal stillness settling down upon him. This time, even Marian's presence in their bed didn't smooth his fears and anxiety.

In his dreams, Guy could see his own body burning in hellfire, firelight painting him in flickering reds and oranges. He tried to run away from the fire, but there was no escape and new flames licked his clothes and body. Soon, his entire body was enveloped in flame, burning for all his heinous crimes he had committed to gain power. He felt great pain lance through his body, moaning quietly.

Guy groaned in his sleep and rolled over, his back to Marian. Dread overcoming his entire being, Guy was still struggling with the flames, trying to run away, but someone grabbed his shoulders and held him tightly. Now, there were two burning male figures in Guy's dreams, and the second man prevented Guy from using his last chance for salvation. The tormentor removed his hood, and Guy was eventually able to see the face of the second man – he was Sheriff Vaisey, his master and the man who had brutalized him and had taught him to kill.

The dreadful picture of burning in hellfire together with Vaisey in a tight embrace sent a shudder of mortal terror through Guy. His body shuddered as his sleepy mind envisioned Vaisey laughing into his face. Then the sheriff wrapped his arms around his henchman's waist, putting his head on Guy's chest and pressing himself tightly to Guy. The dream was more than Guy could bear.

Guy opened his eyes and pulled himself in a sitting position. He sat in the bed, with his eyes closed, his back straight. He looked at the other side of the bed, where Marian slept peacefully; he was relieved that he didn't awake her with his groans. He swept his eyes over the bedroom, pleased that it wasn't dark; the flames of the candles flickered and the air felt heavy.

With the first rays of the rising sun, Guy rose from the bed and dressed himself in black leather jacket and pants. He was disgusted with the necessity to wear black leather, which he had always associated with Vaisey and the past he craved to forget. He didn't want to wear black leather every day, but he had no choice and had to comply with the sheriff's demands.

Guy mounted his horse and rode away from the Castle of Nottingham, the sunlight flashing on his black-clad figure as his horse galloped along the dusty road. After his recent nightmare, Guy felt a strange desire to visit a church and made a confession to a priest. He decided not to go to the chapel in the castle, for he suspected that the priest could have been bought by the sheriff.

He chose to go to the small old church in the suburbs of Nottingham. That church was located close to the former Gisborne lands, and his mother often took him to listen to masses there. It was the church of his childhood, but he never visited it since his return to Nottingham. He hankered to escape from his childhood memories, both good and bad, for they made him feel miserable and sharpened the tart feeling of guilt that lived in the depths of his cold and tormented heart.

Guy dismounted and tied his horse to the tree. He advanced forward and passed through the arch, then stopped near the heavy oak door – the entrance to the church. He opened the door with hands trembling. As he stepped into the candlelight beneath the lofty arched portal, his gaze fell on a black wooden cross that hung on the wall. Guy was so pale, looking like a dead man who rose from a grave.

He stopped in the middle of the chamber, and the old priest looked at him with a silent question in his eyes, for he came to the church earlier than the time of morning mass. Frightened and confused, Guy hardly noticed that the priest stalked towards him and placed in his hand a heavy, lighted candle of yellow wax.

Then he felt the priest's hand on his shoulder, and the reality claimed him back from his slumber. The priest said something, and Guy responded Amen without any thought. He only recovered life and force when the priest offered him to make a confession, and he nodded wordlessly at the churchman.

Guy felt his blood boiling in his veins, for he was angry with himself that he, Guy of Gisborne, suddenly came to the church and was in the need of confession. He fought with himself to conqueror his emotions, but a remnant of anger and indignation still flashed up in his heart. Only when he calmed down, he noticed that the priest was very old; he wondered how such an old man was not dead yet and was still callable of serving in the local church.

The priest approached Guy slowly. "Sir Guy of Gisborne, I feel your soul is burdened. Did you come here to ask God's pardon for your sins and shortcomings?"

Guy looked intently at him; he clenched and unclenched his fists. "I… don't know why I came."

The old man smiled. "Don't be scared, my son. I know that you are not a demon." He looked at Guy until something arose in his eyes that made his face aflame with all the lights in the church. "I know that your soul is burdened. It should be burdened, like everyone's soul."

Guy gave vent to a sad smile. "I had… a horrible dream… about hellfire." He lowered his head. "Do you hate me, like everyone in Nottingham hates me because I serve Sheriff Vaisey?"

"My son, I knew your father, Sir Roger of Gisborne," the priest spoke calmly, the corners of his lips quirking in a small smile. "I remember you and your sister in childhood. Why should I hate you?"

At that moment, Guy raised his head mechanically, staring at the old man in amazement. He was so shocked that he staggered, passed his hand across his eyes, looked at the priest again, and muttered something under his breath. His mind reproduced the young priest who served in this church in the times of Guy's boyhood, and he remembered the man in front of him.

"I remember you, too," Guy said numbly.

The old man smiled heartily; he beckoned Guy to himself. "Are you here to confess your sins?"

Guy was at a loss for words. He was so excited and at the same time so frightened that black spots blinded his vision and his mind was afire. A little shudder ran through his large frame and she could feel the goose flesh rise upon his body. He knew that he had little time to decide what to do next.

Looking at the priest's welcoming face and an inviting gesture to go to an enclosed small stall, Guy felt fear overcoming him. Ignoring the growing desire to talk to the man who knew him since childhood, he took several steps back. He stared at the priest for a long moment, his gaze blurred and unfocussed.

Watching the scene, the priest became conscious that Guy felt uncomfortable; he could almost feel Guy trembling violently. He felt sorry for Guy and pleased that there was something good left in his heart, but he couldn't help him if Guy didn't intend to open his heart to God.

Guy shook his head. "I beg my pardon, but I am not ready to make a confession," he said in a shaking voice. "God have mercy on my soul, but I cannot do that."

"I see." The priest looked disappointed.

"How can you say there is really the devil?"

"We know there is the devil because of God's word, but the devil cannot perpetrate his evil works without our sins opening the door," the priest said, stressing his last words.

"I know." Guy's voice was low, nearly a whisper.

"My son, I know that you don't worship the devil."

"No, I don't, but I haven't prayed since childhood," Guy responded quietly. "And do you think that… anyone can… atone for his sins?" An unutterable relief washed over him that he spoke those words.

The priest's voice was in a caressing murmur. "We should not assume a person needs deliverance from the devil or any other evil spirit, but we assume everyone needs repentance and healing." He smiled vaguely. "Your heart craves for redemption, but you cannot get it if you don't wish to repent of your sins and change yourself."

"And what can you do for people who are not willing to repent or who have not enough strength yet to repent?" Guy felt as if he were about to faint, and yet his sensations were singularly acute. Strange sensations continued assaulting Guy. Confusion claimed his senses; then gratitude and hope flooded his soul, and then he suddenly felt numb.

"A priest can bind the devil temporarily by praying for your soul, my son. But eventually you must open up to God's will."

"I understand." Guy's chest heaved with emotions, and he felt that he no longer could have stayed in the church. He looked at the priest with gratitude, then swung around, intending to leave.

"Wait, my son," the priest called in a high voice, almost appealing to the younger man.

Guy stopped, turning his gaze at the other man. "What can I do for you?"

"I was a young man when I started serving in this church, and your father once came to me after his miraculous return from the Holy Land," the priest announced in a steady voice. "I cannot break the seal of confession, but I want to tell you something that can make you… feel uneasy."

"What?" Guy's voice was a husky growl.

The priest sighed heavily, thinking whether he should have continued; boldness prevailed, for he had to warn Guy. "Sir Roger of Gisborne came to this church and confessed his sins several days before the fire at Gisborne Manor." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "Many years ago, your father did something very bad to Malcolm of Locksley and Robin of Locksley."

"I don't want to hear anything about these people," Guy barked. Then he started walking to the exit.

"Your father did something very bad to Sir Malcolm and young Sir Robin. I doubt that he repented of his wrongdoings before his death," the priest repeated in a higher voice.

"No," Guy breathed. He stood rooted, but he didn't turn around to face the churchman.

"Yes," the priest parried. "Everyone in Nottingham could see that you hate Robin of Locksley, or Robin Hood, but I think I am one of the very few people who understand the roots of your hatred. And I know much more than others know."

Guy coughed nervously. "You cannot break the seal of confession. And the dead people cannot rise to new life." He felt cold shiver running down his spine. "And I highly doubt that my honest father somehow wronged Malcolm of Locksley and his spoiled son."

"You are mistaken, Guy," the priest assured. "Your father wasn't the saint."

"But you can tell me nothing," Guy whispered in astonishment.

"Your father told me what he had done, and I know the truth. You have no reason to hate Robin of Locksley; he is not responsible for your troubles and unhappiness."

Guy swung around and froze, staring at the priest with an intensive gaze. "Then who is at fault?"

"Many people were guilty, and your father was one of them." The priest took in Guy's pale face, then sighed heavily. "I have heard rumors that you tried to assassinate King Richard in the Holy Land. Robin Hood told someone that you had attempted regicide, and the gossip circulated in Nottingham." He gave Guy a fierce glare. "But Sir Robin stopped you before you could kill the king."

"I am not intending to listen to the rumors," Guy growled.

"There are things you must know before it is too late." There was a kind of urgent desperation in the priest's voice, and it made Guy turn his gaze at the old man. "You would have committed an act of blasphemy, the gravest crime, if you had murdered King Richard. You would have never atoned if you had managed to kill the king, and not only because he is the King of England."

Guy scoffed. "The king's life is sacred. The king possesses divine power, right?"

The priest shook his head disapprovingly. "You cannot murder King Richard." His voice deepened. "And you cannot even try to kill Robin Hood because it would be a heinous crime." He raised his voice. "You cannot kill both of them. Otherwise you risk losing a chance for redemption."

Guy gasped audibly. "Why should I let them live?"

"Just remember my words, my son."

"What did my father tell you, of course, if you are not lying to me?"

"I am a man of God, and it is a sin to lie," the priest stated sourly, feeling offended by Guy's words. His eyes moved, and somehow this was more awful even than his steady, funeral voice that spoke the unknown truths to Guy. "You have no reason to hate Sir Robin." He blessed himself with the cross. "I said more than I could. May God forgive me for telling you some really unsettling and confusing things, but I cannot reveal anything else to you – I can only warn you."

"Thank you for confusing me with your words." Guy was frustrated, but his voice was sharp.

"Guy, don't raise your sword against King Richard and Robin Hood – remember my words," the priest said insistently. "And if it is God's will, then one day you will learn the truth."

"Thank you." Guy frowned at the old man, his gaze unkind.

The priest blessed himself with the cross. "Peace be with you, my son. I will pray for your soul."

Guy didn't feel relieved when he stormed out of the old church. Dawn broke over the forest in a distance, its tender rays caressing Guy's face and glinting on the fall of raven hair that hung over his ears and forehead. He rubbed the back of his neck, inhaling sharply of the early morning mist in an effort to shake off the old memories that stirred in his heart after the conversation with the priest.

He swallowed the bitter lump in his throat. His meeting with the priest was a nightmare, choking him with how real it seemed. The priest brought something strange to his attention, but he didn't say anything else. Only one thought managed to shine clear in the muddled mess of his brain – that the priest knew something about Roger of Gisborne. He couldn't help but acknowledge that he was interested in his father's confession to the priest, but he also didn't want to believe that Roger had done something bad to Malcolm and Robin, the two people whom he hated since his childhood.

Clenching his jaw, Guy climbed into the saddle and set his horse in a full gallop. He had to get away from the church and the priest who awoke so many unpleasant memories in his mind. He didn't want to believe the priest, but there was a part of his heart that told him that the old man's words were extremely important, as if they could unlock the mystery of the greatest tragedy of Guy's life.

_I hope you truly enjoyed the prologue._

_This is the prologue to the second part of my long epic._

_In Acre, Robin and his friends are desperately trying to thwart the attempts of the Black Knights to assassinate King Richard. They are using a new method of conducting reconnaissance in disguise. I used the plan of ancient Acre when I wrote the first part of the prologue about Robin._

_In Nottingham, Guy is plagued by nightmares, for his conscience is troubled with the fact that he serves the sheriff. The priest warns Guy about the mysterious triangle Robin/King Richard/Guy, but, of course, he can tell Guy nothing about the true relationship between Robin, Guy and Richard. _

_The Saracens called King Richard Melek-Ric or Malek al-Inkitar._

_There are many shocking and original twists in the second part of the long epic. This part is more dramatic and emotional than the first part. I hope your journey into the world of Robin Hood and his friends with this long story/novel will be pleasant and interesting._

_By the way, one of the fans of my stories about Robin Hood created a wonderful photo album. This person wished to remain anonymous, and I respect this wish. I heartily thank this person for wonderful photos. The links for access to the photo album is given on my profile page._

_**Reviews are always appreciated. Thank you for reading the prologue.**_

_Yours faithfully, Penelope Clemence_

10


	2. Chapter 1 Checkmate

**Chapter 1**

**Checkmate**

Thinking that he had to court his young bride for decency's sake, Robin of Locksley invited Lady Melisende Plantagenet on the ride along the seacoast. Surrounded by ten guards, Robin and Melisende guided their white stallions through the yellow sandy dunes, digging their spurs into the flanks of the animals and moving in the direction of the shore.

Neither Melisende nor Robin liked the idea of being accompanied and watched by so many guards, but they could do nothing, for it was King Richard's order that they must have been always protected. Robin would have never risked making the king angry, especially by foolishly exposing the king's cousin to various dangers and threats in the Holy Land.

Robin enjoyed their ride along the coastline. It was the time of the day when the blazing orange sun was just sinking below the dark line of the horizon. In a distance, the sweet, melancholy notes of the warm weather floated on the sea air which already carried a hint of spring. He loved this melancholy hour when the sun departed from one world to seek another and the daytime noises died away one by one. The water in the sea became smooth as glass and the sky put on fabulous colors. It was always a particularly melancholic and precious time for Robin, but tonight there was something unusual, almost enchanting about it, something out of the ordinary; maybe it was so because he was not alone riding along the coast tonight, he mused.

Robin looked at Melisende and a smile lit up his face; she was beautiful, in her orange gown with a low neckline and airy sleeves, which perfectly matched her long, copper-colored hair. The last rays of sunset were gleaming on the surface of the water. Melisende's red-gold hair shone like sunset clouds, and the rays of the sinking sun sparkled on the golden embroidery of her orange gown.

"I am glad that you took the life of Robert de Sablé," Melisende said sincerely. "He deserved to die for his crimes exactly in the way you killed him."

Robin was amazed. "You approve that I beheaded him in an outburst of anger?"

She smiled at him. "I do support what you did."

He arched a brow. "Really?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "Grand Master de Sablé was a despicable traitor who tried to kill Richard and you! He deserved a brutal, cruel death!" Curiously, her smile lost none of its warmth at her last words; she wasn't scared of him and didn't accuse him of being cruel and bloodthirsty – instead she understood him. "Thanks to God that you were unscratched in the fight with that traitor."

Robin's face split in a mischievous grin. "You are concerned about my fate, Melisende?"

"I don't wish my betrothed to be killed by a foul traitor."

"I think you are lying now. You are terrified of the very idea of my death," he said straightforwardly.

"Fear of death is one thing," she said quietly, smiling enigmatically. "Politics and political unions are different things."

"What exactly do you want to say?"

"Our marriage is a gift of loyalty to Richard, from our hearts, and I am conscious of how worthy it is. I wish we could be married and bring peace to my county and relief to Richard, for our marriage will ensure the loyalty of so many nobles to him."

Robin's laugh held real amusement. "I begin to think our beloved King would be well advised by me and very soon to do something with you! You are a great liar if you want to lie."

She scoffed. "You think I am lying?"

"Of course," he spelled out slowly. "I know that you are concerned about my fate, not only politics."

"Perhaps." She smiled enigmatically.

"Not perhaps – for sure," Robin said insistently.

Melisende looked at Robin, smiling with an enticing smile. "Why are you marrying me?" She turned her gaze at her right hand, her eyes taking in the gorgeous diamond three-stone framed ring set with a round diamond center stone and bezel-set side stones surrounded with five small amethysts. She loved her engagement ring which Robin had given her on the day when he had proposed to her about three months ago.

Despite still having doubts about his marriage to Melisende, Robin suddenly felt that his life became very simple. He said farewell to his old life, to the old world which, bound in its cruel and treacherous framework of Marian's betrayal and his ruined dreams, could offer him nothing but a narrow, limited existence and endless, unbearable pain. But now he felt curiously lighthearted, with the sense of release that often came when a difficult decision was made.

Robin raised a quizzical eyebrow. "And why should I not want to marry you?"

She opened her mouth but no sound came out, as if she wanted to say something, but she decided against that. Then she shook her head. "Oh, I see. Out of loyalty to Richard."

Robin turned his gaze at her, a wry smile on his lips. "I am surprised that you think so. You have many great qualities that make you a valuable match for everyone. You are a dream bride."

She laughed. "Ah, of course, I have forgotten! What a fool I am!" she exclaimed. "I am King Richard's cousin. I have the blood of the Plantagenets in my veins. And my husband will become Count de Bordeaux through his marriage to me; he will also receive many lands and manors," she said spitefully. She knew that it was not in Robin's manner to do something for his own advantage, but she liked challenging him and teasing him in any way she found possible.

"I thought that you knew: Robin Hood doesn't need money and titles for happiness."

"Oh, indeed. I am sorry."

"You don't cease to amuse me, Lady Melisende."

"I am glad to hear that."

Robin eyed her sternly. "If you don't want to marry me, then tell me about that."

"Do all people marry whom they like?" She chuckled. "I am the king's cousin, and I don't have a free will in the matters of marriage. Everything personal always comes with political in my life."

Gazing into a distance, Robin watched twittering seabirds flying over the vast sea expanse; he enjoyed the picture of the fragile peace of the moment. "King Richard loves you. He will never force you to marry an unworthy man. And he will never force you to marry a man whom you detest and dislike, even if he needs this marriage for England."

"You are wrong. You idealize Richard," Melisende objected. "Richard is my cousin and he loves me, but he is the King of England in the first place. He will make me marry anyone if it suits England's interests and his own purposes. My personal interests and wishes go behind Richard's political needs."

"Lady Melisende, our king has a soft spot for you, like for Princess Joan."

Melisende looked away. For all the beauty of the evening, her heart felt heavy, lonely and sad. She never objected marrying Robin, out of all King Richard's loyal and high-ranking noblemen, but she believed that he had never wanted their marriage. "Anyway, Richard wants to marry me off to you, Huntingdon. He made it pretty clear to me several months ago. I don't want to disappoint him, and I will obey Richard, my cousin and my sovereign."

"You will obey? Is it the only reason why you agreed to marry me?"

"We don't want to disappoint the king because you and I love him too much."

"I love King Richard as my king and friend, but my deep affection for him will not prevent me from breaking our betrothal if you are forced to enter into matrimony with me."

She shook her head. "I am not forced."

Robin tightened his reins and rode to Melisende. As he reached her, she stopped her horse and looked at him with silent question in her eyes. "My lady, if you don't want to marry me, tell Richard about that. He will listen to you, and if he doesn't want to listen, I will make him listen."

"I thought that my cousin would marry me off to the Earl of Leicester, but I don't mind being married to you, Huntingdon."

"Alas!" Robin exclaimed, as if speaking to himself in a fit of intense grief. "Finally, I know the truth. If you want to marry Leicester, I will help you to have him as your fiancé."

"No, I don't want to marry the Earl of Leicester," she murmured, her cheeks blushing, her voice barely audible, but he distinguished her words. "I pray you, milord, won't say anything else on the matter. Richard wants us to marry, I agreed, and you don't object."

Robin smiled with his most charming smile. "As you wish." He nodded slightly, his finger tracing, almost tenderly, the reins. "But I want you to know that I wouldn't have married you for all riches of the world and even out of my loyalty to my king if I myself hadn't wanted that."

"Really?" she asked, instinctively keeping her voice low.

"Yes," he replied briskly.

"That's an unexpected statement."

"As it is," he said.

"I am amazed, my dear Earl of Huntingdon."

"You should not be, my precious Countess de Bordeaux."

Robin urged his horse tearing his sides with his spurs, and she followed him. The guards were not far from them, clustered around the betrothed couple – their captain and the king's cousin. They continued riding along the coastline, looking at a chain of islands colored green and amethyst in the light of the setting sun.

"You don't have to court me, Lord Huntingdon," Melisende said coolly, with a touch of sneer.

Robin smiled a little sadly, at his betrothed. "I thought that we agreed that you would call me Robin. Or do you dislike my name so much that you cannot even pronounce it?"

"Yes, we agreed." She smiled. "And I like your name."

"Then why aren't you doing that?"

"To tease you, Robin."

He chuckled. "Ah, I see, I see."

She spurred on her horse and began to descend a sandy hill. "Huntingdon, don't pretend that you want to marry me and that you are willingly courting me. You are courting me because it would be better for _your_ reputation."

"_Our _reputation, my lady," Robin pointed out, his tone formal.

Melisende began to laugh. "Well, if you are courting me with such pleasure, Lord Huntingdon, then carry me off to the ends of the world." She burst into laughter. "We will love one another till our dying day. I will give you sons as brave and impudent as you are; I will give you daughters as witty and beautiful as I am. I will love you so much! Marry me tomorrow, if not right now, and let's run away from Acre!"

He glanced at her, grinning wickedly. "Yeah, you want to mock me and what I am doing, but your eyes don't cease to speak a language different from the language of your lips."

She laughed aloud, her melodic laughter, with French notes, ringing in the hot air, but he could see that she was tempted by her own offer. He was secretly pleased that she had some affection for him. Their marriage was an arranged union of political nature, but at least they were not disgusted with the mere sight of the other; on the contrary, they were attracted to one another.

"I appear to be hazarding to say absurd things, do I not? Such madness! Pure madness! Maybe it is the sun that made me lose my sanity?" She looked away, at the sea in a distance.

Robin's eyes twinkled in mischief. He knew that she was embarrassed, but she managed to mask her true feelings so well. Their unforgettable encounters, with their official pomposity in public and their bickering and teasing in privacy entertained Robin very much.

"If I asked you for a proof of some affection you have for me, would you tell me the truth?"

"Oh, no! I cannot possess affection for a braggart like you!" she gave an exclamation of feigned offence. "Pray keep yourself hoping for my affection, milord, but be aware that my heart is too small to accommodate any feeling for such a great hero and his big ego."

The sky deepened to mauve, and Robin watched boats move sedately out the harbor of Acre towards the open sea, like a stately procession crowned with a snatch of song borne on the freshening breeze.

"You know something… God help any man who falls in love with you, Lady Melisende. He would have to deal with a beautiful woman with a soul of a lioness," he retorted.

"Oh! I have nothing to wish for in the world. I am satisfied with my life," she said steadily, gazing at the blue expanse of the sea. "I have enjoyed in this life all the happiness I am meant for."

"Oh, no, no, my lady!" he cried out mockingly, parodying her manner. "Your happiness is a matter of tomorrow and forever. You have a long life ahead."

Melisende looked at Robin, a strange smile on her lips. Suddenly, a crazy idea came to her mind, born of the sight of an empty coast. She spurred on her mount and galloped away from Robin, into a distance, ignoring Robin's cries and pleas to wait for him and the guards. She could see only the blue seashore and could distinguish the voices of Robin and the guards far away.

"If you continue demonstrating your foolish headstrongness, I will forbid you from riding as soon as we are married," she heard the familiar voice speak harshly beside her. It was Robin's voice.

Melisende turned her head, and her eyes met Robin's cold gaze. "Great God! You are already here!" She looked around and saw the other guards quickly catching up with them.

"Yes, I am here; the guards are almost here. It wasn't difficult to find you."

"Oh, there is nothing difficult for Robin Hood," she teased him.

He resumed all his coolness at the sight of her smug face. "Not a long time ago, King Richard ordered me to never leave the camp alone in order not to become an unfortunate victim of our enemies. It may be dangerous here, and I will never let you get yourself killed in the desert."

She grinned at him. "When did you stop disregarding Richard's orders, Robin? I have heard a lot about your behavior in the private guard – you often change decisions, suddenly and arbitrarily. And you are one of the few knights who can go against Richard's orders."

Robin laughed. "I see you know so much about me."

"You could have been executed for insubordination many more times than I have hair on my head."

"Well, but I am still alive," he said with an arrogant smile, "Because I am Robin Hood."

She laughed at him. "Oh, you are very arrogant! But I will correct you – because Richard needs you and loves you, not because you are Robin Hood."

"Oh," he breathed. "But you don't know one important thing: I rarely risk myself in vain and when I am not sure that I will survive, unless I have to save the king."

Melisende rode to him and stopped her horse near his. "Robin," she called him. She pronounced his name in her softest and most honeyed tones.

Robin looked at her, his expression curious. "What?"

"I didn't want to scare you," she answered in the same gentle and soft tone. "I am sorry."

"You are very gallant, Lady Melisende," he said with a smile on his face.

"You are smiling."

"Do you wish me to weep?"

"No, but I want to see you a little more melancholic."

Robin eyed her beautiful face with infinite sadness in his eyes. "I have been in melancholy for so long. Now I think I may well regard it as a debt discharged." Then his face recovered all his usual liveliness and smugness. "Besides, melancholy makes people look so plain. I hate looking plain."

She gave him a searching look, but found nothing on his face, only the familiar indifference and coldness in his blue eyes. "You can never look plain, Robin."

"Really?" He chuckled.

"Robin, don't angle for compliments!"

Robin raised his eyes and looked at the sky, his eyes taking in the large arrow-headed clouds, the canvas darker and darker with every minute. "It is time to return to the camp. It is getting dark." He gave her a conspiratorial glance and winked at her. "Let's ride to the camp surrounded by guards, as if they had arrested us and we were heavily guarded on the way to our prison."

Melisende smiled at him. "I like your jokes, Robin. Maybe my marriage to you, the impudent cheeky rogue, will be the happiest day of my whole life," she said in a jeering tone.

Robin looked away. He knew that she was trying to entertain them, but he couldn't think about the wedding day; every time he remembered about his upcoming nuptials he felt that the gulf was inexorably widening between him and Marian. He caught a glimpse of disappointment on Melisende's face before her face turned blank, and he felt guilty; it was not her fault, but only his fault.

Robin turned to her and flashed a sad smile. "I am sorry," he said softly. His eyes strayed from Melisende to a golden pathway straight into the setting sun.

"Robin, don't apologize, I beseech you!" Melisende laughed.

He tightened the reins and set off at a gallop, signaling Melisende and the guards to follow him. They rode so quickly that the noise of horses wasn't muffled even by the sand. The thunderous beat of the galloping hoofbeats grew louder as Robin spurred on his horse and accelerated his pace.

Robin heard the cries of the guards behind him, urging him to wait for them, but he ignored them. He saw that Melisende rose near him, their stallions moving almost in unison, and they both were soaring like flashes of lightning in the air. They rode at the same speed, paying no attention to anyone and even to themselves, until they reached the walls of Acre, heading to the Citadel of Acre where Melisende stayed together with Count Henry de Champagne and his wife Lady Isabella of Jerusalem.

§§§

A May day was warm, bright, and sunny, but an almost palpable uneasiness hung over the town of Nottingham. As Guy of Gisborne and his guards were riding through narrow, dirty streets in the direction of the Castle of Nottingham, Guy could see many beggars standing along the street, many of them abnormally thin, their eyes hungry and desperate.

Most of the beggars stood begging with outstretched hands, their palms open in an attempt to attract attention of wealthy people who could give them a coin or two. Some of them offered black market goods or services in exchange for a little money to buy some bread. After Robin Hood's departure from Nottingham to the Holy Land, the oppression of the population continued and living conditions became almost unbearable.

Sitting on his black stallion, Guy eyed the beggars. The miserable picture of the hungry and ragged people tugged at Guy's heart, but he didn't dip his hand into his purse to throw some coins to them. Instead, he was overwhelmed by self-loathing and self-hatred. His inner turmoil kept him from paying much attention to the ragged populace, but his expression was openly shocked for an instant; before he masked it with coldness and nonchalance, Allan had managed to see it, and even without verbal interaction with his right-hand man, Guy knew deep in his bones that Allan had guessed his master's real feelings and had possibly read his thoughts.

Guy heard some of the beggars whispering his name, and the myriad of emotions flooded him – self-loathing swept up to grip his throat, and he swallowed hard against it, battling for control. As soon as Guy and his men reached them, the beggars automatically recoiled from them in fear, as if the sheriff's henchman and his escort party were lepers. Guy cringed at the thought that his mere appearance had such a frightening effect on the people; earlier he would have been happy, but now only sadness filled his heart as he contemplated his surroundings.

Guy thought longingly about the old days – about the time before his banishment from Locksley. He could easily remember the crowded marketplace as the market thrived and many peasants came there to sell the excess of products that their household hadn't consumed in a particular period. Now the marketplace was empty and trade no longer existed because the peasants had no money to pay taxes and were barely able to feed themselves. More than seven years ago, when Vaisey and Guy had arrived in Nottingham, the market had still thrived and trade had been active. Presently, the economic situation in Nottingham was radically different.

With great reluctance, Guy admitted that Robin of Locksley had been partly right stating that the market had been deserted by the peasants at the Council of Nobles, which he had attended immediately after his return from the Crusades. Robin had insisted that taxes must have been eliminated to improve the living conditions of the peasants and boost the economy of the town; Guy laughed at the ideas of his sworn enemy. Yet, now he was ready to agree with Robin: if there was at least some hope for the brighter future for the people of Nottinghamshire, taxes must have been significantly lowered at least for a while.

They rode through another narrow street when Guy raised his head and looked up at the sky, but could see little of it. Dilapidated buildings to either side of the street leaned together so that they almost blocked out the sunlight completely. It was probably for the best, Guy decided bitterly, for his mood was grim and he was unable to think about anything bright and happy. Moreover, streets were full of garbage because the sheriff didn't allocate enough funds to cover expenses of its transportation from the town to the suburbs; there was a risk that too much direct sun would make garbage stink worse than it had already done.

As they turned to another street, heading to the Castle of Nottingham, the picture before their eyes drew gasps of amazement and disbelief from Guy, Allan, and others. There was the crowd of beggars that blocked the road as the people moved towards the central square. There were some children mingled in the crowd, who wept and cried.

Guy shuddered in horror mingled with disgust. He could see a thin boy four years of age, seated with legs dangling, upon the shoulders of his father, crying and begging his father for a piece of bread. Guy could also see several mothers crouching in the mud as they raised their children and hurried to free the road for Guy and his men.

There was a bard in the crowd, who was singing a song about Robin Hood and his band, honoring the outlaws and imploring them to return to Nottingham. The sound of Robin Hood's name awakened a sheer hatred in Guy's heart, and his stomach twisted in knots, but the same feeling was quickly replaced by disgust for himself and hatred for Vaisey whose brutal authority was the reason for hunger in the town.

Guy knew that those people hated him, and it made him ashamed of himself. Robin Hood wasn't in Nottingham and couldn't save anyone, but what mattered was that the people consisted of cripples, thieves, and beggars. At that moment, he half wished that Hood returned and started feeding the people again; he was also relieved that the peasants who lived on the lands owned by Robin were able to enjoy the grace period and didn't pay taxes for a year, which infuriated Vaisey to the core.

"Make way for Sir Guy of Gisborne!" Allan commanded.

A wild fit of laughter took possession of one of the beggars, who, without caring for Allan's words, shouted boldly, "And maybe Guy of Gisborne will help his countrymen survive?"

A hush fell over the crowd. And then someone began to whine in a doleful way, half closing his eyes and begging for money. "Charity, please, Sir Guy! Charity, please! Help us!"

The shouts of the beggars made Guy shudder; he was utterly shocked and highly displeased. On recovering from his first stupefaction, he planned to order to arrest the beggars and stared at Allan with cold, resolute eyes, but then something snapped inside his heart. Instead, his hand touched his purse that hung on his waist; spurring his horse, he reached Allan and gave him the purse.

"Allan, take this purse and give the coins to these people," Guy instructed quietly. "But you should do that when the guards and I will go ahead. The sheriff shouldn't know about that." As he said that, feelings of joy and triumph stirred somewhere in the depths of his heart, but they were mingled with bitterness, for he couldn't have done that openly in fear that Vaisey would learn about his charity.

Allan winked at Guy. "Certainly I will do that, and heartily."

Guy nodded and pulled his reins. "Make way for me and my men! Make way for us!" He gave his men commands to clear the road if the crowd didn't disperse. Then, without even deigning to cast a glance upon the beggars, he spurred on his black stallion and rode ahead, followed by his guards.

Allan didn't follow Guy and the others. Instead, he dismounted and started distributing the coins from the purse, enjoying the looks of shock and astonishment on the people's faces.

Suddenly, a hush fell over the crowd as they heard the sounds of approaching horses. In the next moment, Roger de Lacy and his men emerged from a nearby street; there was the cart full of bread and other meals was driven by an old horse. De Lacy's men dismounted and started unloading the cart and giving the food to the townspeople; they also distributed coins and fresh water. Meanwhile, the rabble applauded with shouts of laughter.

Seeing that the tumult was increasing around him, Allan decided that it was a good time to disappear and ride to the castle. He had already distributed the coins Guy had given him, and he couldn't stay there more, for Guy was waiting for him in the castle. Roger de Lacy eyed Allan suspiciously, but then his gaze revealed amazement as he saw an empty purse in Allan's hands. Allan raised his hand to salute de Lacy and then set his horse in a full gallop, heading to the castle.

While Allan rode to the castle, Guy was already having a private audience with Sheriff Vaisey. Guy stood near the desk and watched Vaisey pacing the chamber up and down, his hands clutching an unrolled parchment. For a long time, Vaisey paced back and forth before a window in his study room in the castle. After two or three steps, he paused and threw open the wooden shutters, looking outside at the town of Nottingham. Restlessly clasping his hands behind his back, he stood somber and serious, looking across the central courtyard before the castle and running his eyes over the whole town. As the study room was located in the tower, Vaisey saw the town from that vantage quite well.

Guy watched the sheriff's small black figure, trying to guess the reasons for his master's unexpected anxiety. In the past few days, Vaisey was unusually contemplative and thoughtful, almost always absorbed in his thoughts. The sheriff often summoned Guy in his study room and asked him trivial questions about the collection of taxes in Nottinghamshire. With sickening feeling of dread and apprehension, Guy thought that Vaisey's calm demeanor was strange; today everything changed, and calmness was replaced by tense anxiety.

Vaisey's small figure in black looked especially unusual against the white walls adorned with flower engravings, which was the sheriff's recent innovation he introduced to make the atmosphere in the chamber for his caged birds happier and merrier, as he told Guy. Guy barely suppressed his sneer, for the sheriff had a strange attitude towards his birds.

The sheriff turned slowly to face his henchman. Unclasping his hands, he ran his fingers through his silver hair. "Gisborne, I care for you, my boy," he said in a warm, silken tone. "I want us to be together, in a precious and life-long partnership. I want to share laurel wreaths with you – power beyond measure." He slowly walked to Guy. He stared at the raven-haired younger man for a long moment in silence, and then he put his hands on Guy's shoulders. "We will win this game together. _We will always be together, like a father and a son_."

Guy was shocked with the intensity of Vaisey's gaze. The sheriff's eyes were ablaze with hellish fire, and Guy felt as if he were burning in hell at those agonizing moments. The heat emanating from the sheriff nearly burned the black leather of Guy's jacket, and Guy took a step back from his master.

"Yes, my lord," Gisborne was able to say at last.

Feverish desperation swept over Guy at the thought that the sheriff was preparing for something utterly important for the future. Guy felt pinned to the ground with shock at the realization that the sheriff's calmness and today's anxiety could have been explained by the fact that Vaisey's cunning mind was inventing a crafty plan to kill King Richard and Robin Hood. A growl almost ripped from his throat at the thought that they were probably supposed to travel to the Holy Land again.

The sheriff confirmed Guy's thoughts as he stopped near Guy. "Gisborne, we are departing to the Holy Land in several days," he declared bluntly. "You and Allan are going with me."

Guy felt his heart swelling with pure fear. He feared to go to the Holy Land and face Robin Hood. He feared that they would fail to assassinate the king. He feared that he would be unable to kill the king, like it had happened in the royal tent when he had stood above the king's sleeping form indecisive to strike a fatal blow; the moments of his hesitation had been interrupted by Robin's sudden appearance. Guy felt as if he were drowning in a sea of mortal sins. Amusingly, he also didn't want to kill the king, but he was like a wild animal trapped by the sheriff in a golden cage.

Having regained his composure, Guy only blinked as if in surprise, startled with so many events happening all at once. "Did the Hashashin fail to kill King Richard and Robin Hood?" He doubted that it had happened, especially when he remembered that Prince John's current mistress – Lady Amicia de Beaumont – was King Richard's secret spy.

"We don't know, but Prince John wants us to travel to the Holy Land. The prince fears that Hood will stop the Hashashin, so that he wants us to go to Acre and kill his brother. Well, Hood was heroic in the recent bloody battle with the army of Saracens hired by the Black Knights."

Guy was confused. "What?"

"Our friends – Buckingham, Rotherham, Durham, and Spenser – had a long and disastrous journey to the Holy Land. They organized a massacre in the king's camp several months ago," Vaisey informed. "That's why we didn't see them for many months."

"The last meeting of the Black Knights took place six months ago – in December in London," Guy said, struggling to put the notes of displeasure out of his voice. "As now it is May, then they should have left for Acre immediately after the meeting if they have already returned to England."

"They departed to Acre in two days after the meeting."

"Prince John didn't tell us about that." Guy didn't like that he knew nothing about the matter.

"I knew and it is enough, my boy."

Guy seethed with anger inside. "I didn't know."

"Don't be offended, my boy! I told you nothing because I knew that they would fail; Lord Sheridan said the same. We told Prince John that it was a bad idea, but he didn't listen to us." Vaisey sniggered. "_The prince wanted the Lionheart to be known as the massacred Weaklingheart, the massacred king_."

"Did they come close to the camp?"

"They did, but only thanks to the chaos in the camp and the treachery of three Crusaders. Well, you remember them from last time, Gisborne. All of them stood near the king and almost killed him, but Hood, Blondie, Leicester, and Hood's annoying manservant interfered and saved the king."

"Now I understand why Prince John demands more and more taxes."

"Exactly, Gizzy! It is a luxury to hire an army of Saracen mercenaries."

"And what happened there?" Guy asked.

With a large smile, Vaisey proceeded to a long tale about the massacre in the king's camp.

The sheriff laughed. "Oh, it was a real massacre. The battle was inside the king's tent and later near the tent, which was surrounded by the Crusaders to protect the Lionheart." He whistled. "Mmmm… Spenser complained that they stood waist-deep in blood. But I think this was… so good." He loved bloodshed so much; his wicked heart pounded harder as he imagined the massacre.

"Are they still alive?"

"Durham and Buckingham were unscratched. Spenser was wounded by Hood; on the way from Acre, he was feverish for… about two weeks, I don't know for sure how long," Vaisey informed. "Rotherham was seriously injured by another Crusader, in his side or his chest. He contracted a fever and lost much blood, and he was so bad that our friends feared that he would die. Buckingham and Durham nursed Rotherham as a child throughout all three months they spent on a ship; they took a direct route from Acre to Portsmouth through the Pillars of Hercules."

"Did Rotherham survive, my lord?"

"Yes, he did. Now Rotherham is in one of his estates. He is still recovering and has problems… with his lungs, his right lung was breached. He must stay bedridden for a while."

"Well, it looks like Rotherham's wound was really serious."

The sheriff's eyes glistened. "I would love to see how our… pretty friend Robin Hood behaved during the massacre. Spenser adored Hood's swordplay and said that our little… Hooddie was exceptional and killed everyone on his way."

Guy didn't wish to talk about Hood. "But they failed."

"Yes, Gisborne! And now we will carry out our plan! Isn't it good, hmm?" Vaisey grinned merrily. "We will kill the lion and will make Prince John happy and grateful."

"Yes, my lord," Guy said automatically.

"But there is one problem."

"What?"

"Prince John also wants us to take his personal assassin to kill King Richard and Robin Hood." Vaisey gave a derisive snort. "The assassin has such a funny name! Archer! Archer!" He broke into a loud laugh. "He will join us in Portsmouth."

"Oh! We don't need him!"

"We cannot disregard Prince John's order," the sheriff said sadly, his mind plotting. "But we will kill King Richard without anyone's help. And you, my boy, should concentrate and help me kill the king. This hired assassin, Archer, must be left out of our business, though we are taking him with us because it is Prince John's order." He clapped his hands. "Soon the lion shall roar in pain! His blood will be hot and stick on my hands! The lion's blood and pain will bring us our great fortune."

The man in black leather flushed to the roots of his black hair. "Our fortune?"

"Gisborne, focus on your fortune in the first place. You have lost Hood's lands, and now you have more solid reasons to fight for the king's death and avenge your dispossession."

"Yes, milord," Guy said, acquiescing with a sort of disgruntled nod.

The sheriff smiled. "My boy, I want us to kill the pitiful King Richard together. We will glorify the day when the king is dead."

Guy nodded, then swallowed hard. "As you wish, my lord."

§§§

At the same time, disguised as the Nightwatchman, Marian quickly ascended the staircase, heading to her bedchamber to hide herself from the sheriff's guards. She could hardly breathe, her heartbeat jolted into double time. She had never been more frightened in her whole life. She looked around and let out a small sigh of relief as she saw no guards there. She turned round the corner and made her way through the long corridor towards her and Guy's room.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps behind her. She rushed ahead, but stumbled into two guards, who were confused at first and then gave an exclamation of surprise, followed by a cry of delight that they had found the Nightwatchman. The guards grabbed her, and she struggled to free herself from their hold; she kicked out one of them into his belly, but two more guards threw themselves at her. She started struggling more violently, beating and punching the guards, but she was not able to get rid of them as the sheriff's men held her firmly and, have her immobilized, grabbed both of her legs.

"We have found the Nightwatchman! We found him!" the guards screamed, overjoyed.

Marian cursed in her mind. Less than an hour ago, she tried to save the villagers who were arrested by Vaisey and Gisborne in the recent fight in the central courtyard of Nottingham. Breaking her word to Guy, she disguised herself as the Nightwatchman and sneaked into the dungeons and tried to free the villagers. She desperately wished to save the people from the terrible fate – to be sold to Finn MacMurrough, a rude Irishman who wanted to recruit the villagers into an army he planned to use to free Ireland, so as he himself could rule Ireland later.

But Marian was discovered by Allan, who advised her to run away as quickly as her legs carried her. Then the worst thing happened when one of the sheriff's guards roared that they had found the Nightwatchman and commanded the guards to detain Marian. She fought fiercely with her captors, and by miracle she managed to leave the dungeons, climbing upstairs and then passing the corridor, running towards her bedchamber. Yet, she was spotted by several more guards, and then she was surrounded and trapped.

"Silence! Silence!" Guy thundered as he appeared in the corridor and stopped beside the Nightwatchman and the guards. He turned away from Marian and looked at the three guards who stood confused, staring with wide eyes at their patron in anticipation to hear their master's orders.

Marian's eyes locked with Guy's blue orbs darkened in anger; she turned her head and met Allan's horror-stricken gaze. Her heart was beating so fast that she thought it would explode in her basque.

"Sir Guy, we detained the criminal," one of the man boasted. "Let's see what we have here."

"Should we take him to the dungeons?" another guard asked.

One of the guards unmasked Marian, and the other guards gasped in shock.

"Guy! Guy!" Marian didn't know why she said that; the words just came out of her mouth.

The guards stared at the Nightwatchman in horror as they recognized Guy's wife.

"Sir Guy…" The young guard looked horrified.

"Sir Guy… this is Lady Marian…" another guard muttered.

"Blimey…" Allan stumbled with words.

Guy looked between the shocked Marian and the astonished faces of his guards. "You stay here," he said to the guards, his eyes darting to Allan. "Allan, take her to our room and wait there," he ordered.

Shocked and almost numb, Allan nodded in agreement. Marian felt Guy's strong arms wrapping around her waist. Those arms lifted her and passed her to another pair of arms – Allan's arms. Then Allan began dragging Marian away. Marian tossed her head around and looked back; she saw Guy reaching for his men and plunging his curved dagger into the neck of one guard, into the stomach of another one and then into the chest of the third guard. She heard their groans and screams of horror that their master had become their murderer.

"What… what is he doing?" Marian stammered.

"He is saving you, Marian," Allan muttered under his breath.

"Oh my Lord!" Marian whispered in horror. The realization dawned upon her that Guy had killed his own men for her to prevent the sheriff from discovering the true identity of the Nightwatchman.

Allan continued dragging her towards her bedchamber as if she were a sack of corn. She didn't resist and was so silent that Allan thought she had lost her conscience. Allan lifted her easily and opened the door of the bedchamber. Then he went inside and gently put Marian on the bed.

Guy stood over the bodies of three guards, staring at them with dead eyes. He held the bloodied dagger he had killed his men with in his hand. Sunlight gleamed on the dagger like the scales of a snake. The men's uniforms were soaked with blood; the stone floor was slick with blood. Guy shook his head, and panic rose in his soul as he remembered that he had to leave the place of the crime. He moved not like a ghost but like a fury as he strode towards the bedchamber he shared with Marian.

Guy opened the door quietly and slid inside as noiselessly as a cat. Three strides took him to the bed and he stood beside Allan, his face pale and shocked. Then Guy went to Marian and started undressing her. Marian's cheeks flamed darkly at the naked anger in her husband's face.

"Turn around! Don't look at her!" Guy screamed at Allan, who hurried to obey.

"Guy, please… Guy…" Marian begged him, struggling with him.

"Stop fighting with me!" Guy shrilled. He violently tore the mask from her face.

"Please… please…" Marian implored in despair.

Guy walked to Allan and threw the Nightwatchman's costume at Allan. "Allan, disguise yourself and play your role well. You know what to do."

Allan looked startled. "Guy, do you want me to play the Nightwatchman's escape?"

"Yes, do this, Allan, and hurry up. There is no time," Guy mumbled. His voice was tense and slightly shaking. "We will say that the criminal fled and killed three guards."

"Don't worry. I will do this," Allan agreed, feeling obliged to save Marian. He quickly started putting on the disguise.

"Allan, be very careful," Guy urged Allan.

Allan smiled. "I will."

After the massive door slammed shut behind Allan, Marian remained for a moment sitting dazedly on her bed and looking into the emptiness. It all occurred so quickly that she could hardly take in where she was or what had happened to her. She only knew that Guy had saved her and killed the sheriff's guards for her sake. She was deeply touched with his courageous and sacrificing actions, though bloody and violent; she hadn't expected that he could have been so sacrificing only for her sake after he had killed Rebecca of Locksley's innocent son and arrested the villagers of Locksley and other people.

Guy gave her a wolfish glare. "You betrayed your promise to me, Marian. You betrayed me again, and now I had to kill my own men to save you."

She jumped from the bed and stood before him, her hands at her hips, shaking with anger. "I tried to persuade you to help the villagers, but you don't care for the people."

He gave her a murderous glare. "I cannot save all of them, you fool."

"I know that the sheriff is selling our own villagers to raise more money for Prince John," Marian challenged Guy. "I cannot seat and watch that the people are sold like slaves."

"And I couldn't save these beggars by risking my own neck and your neck, too, but I also didn't need to save them," he retorted, shooting her a spiteful look.

"Of course," Marian told him flippantly, refusing to be baited into anger and sneering at him. "You couldn't save them for me because you are so loyal to the sheriff."

Guy glared at her, his eyes narrowing warningly. "I said that I didn't need to save them."

She blinked. "Why?"

"Sir Roger de Lacy has become the new hero of the peasants," Guy commented dryly, his gaze never leaving her flushed face. "Lord de Lacy paid to Finn MacMurrough a huge sum of money, in pure gold; the Irishman departed from Nottingham to Provence to hire mercenaries there. The sheriff is going to release the villagers soon."

A weight lifted from Marian's shoulders. "De Lacy did the right thing. And what about the increased taxes on mills and other taxes?"

"Marian, you heard _the Royal Proclamation _about Robin Hood's pardon. The people, who live in the Earldom of Huntingdon and the village of Locksley, are exempted from all taxes for one calendar year, though I suppose the sheriff will eventually have his way… somehow."

"And what about other people? In Clun, in Nettlestone, in other villages?"

"All other people in Nottinghamshire don't have the luxury King Richard granted to Hood's peasants. Extremely high taxation undermines prosperity of many nobles, but all the lords in the shire pay nonetheless. The villagers also pay all the taxes."

"Guy, you must do something! People will starve to death!"

"It has already been already done."

"What?" She frowned.

"De Lacy distributed funds to the peasants honoring King Richard's last birthday," Guy said with distaste. "It was stupid to say that because it is clear that de Lacy did that at Hood's request."

"Excellent!" Marian said with a laugh.

"I didn't tell the sheriff that Roger de Lacy gave huge donations to the villagers; de Lacy was rather discreet, but my men saw him and reported the case to me."

Marian smiled. "Thank you, Guy."

"Are you pleased now?"

"You did the right thing that you allowed Lord de Lacy to give money to the people. And de Lacy is a clever man if he plays with the sheriff within the law."

Guy laughed outright, but it seemed to Marian that there was something guarded in his laughter.

"Roger de Lacy is using Robin Hood's money, in fact King Richard's money," Guy barked. "And may I remind you that de Lacy has recently thrown us out of Locksley Manor."

She quirked an eyebrow at him, worried. "Please don't tell me that you are going to kill de Lacy."

"No, the sheriff didn't give me this order."

"Again Vaisey!" she spat bitterly. "Why cannot you stand against him? When will you find enough strength to become your own man?"

"And what did I do for you today?" Guy asked in a steel voice.

"Guy, you have to understand. I had–"

"I am fed up with your explanations!" he roared. "Why are you so stubborn and so reckless?"

"I wasn't reckless!" she protested.

"_Every time you go on the Nightwatchman business something happens_. You cannot deny that?"

Marian hung her head. "No, I cannot."

Guy emitted a heavy sigh. "At least here we are on the same page."

Marian and Guy froze as they heard Vaisey's yelling voice calling for Gisborne and the guards to catch the Nightwatchman. The blood drained from Marian's face as it came to her what was happening in the castle now; Allan was saving her, risking his life for her sake. She heard the screams of the guards and understood that commotion escalated inside the castle. She felt ashamed of herself, her heart swelling with remorse for what she had unintentionally caused today.

She gazed at Guy in despair. "Guy, I am sorry that I brought additional danger on our necks."

"Shhh," Guy replied, holding up a gloved finger at Marian's lips. "You are a liar. I believed you, but you again betrayed me. Every day that I grew more and more to love you, you were mocking me. Every day I wanted to believe that we can be happy together, even after I learnt that you slept with Hood." Glaring into her eyes for a moment, he turned to go to the door. "But you betrayed me over and over again," he threw over his shoulder as he walked to the door.

"This is not true! This is not true!"

Guy paused and swung around to face her. "Don't take me for a fool! All your lies fit you. The way that you behaved with me, your little rides into the forest." He wagged his finger at her. "You were trusted here in the castle by all of us."

Marian lowered her head, looking at her fingernails. "I know."

"Every moment that I thought you were a wife and a friend to me, you were betraying me," he told her fervently. "Don't tell me about your father and the destroyed Knighton Hall! I defended you and even your father against the sheriff countless times!"

"And I deceived the sheriff to help the people," she said hotly. "And in so doing, I had to deceive you, and I am sorry for that. But is it such a crime to follow my heart?"

Guy approached her. His hands gripped her shoulders, and he looked down at her lovely face. "I love you, Marian," he said gruffly. "Whatever I do, I want to know that you are safe. That is why today I killed my own men. But I cannot always risk so much."

"You can turn against the sheriff. You can–"

"Stop before you cross the line, Marian. We have already discussed that."

"Everything has a price, even a huge price. And everything is a choice," she retorted, glazing straight into his eyes. "You are siding with Vaisey on your own free will."

Stony silence was her only response. "Not everything is a choice," he said after a long pause.

"I kind of agree," she said. "We cannot choose what we feel."

Marian and Guy continued looking into each other's eyes, as if they were entranced. For long moments, they were oblivious of anything around them as they lost themselves in contemplating one another.

Marian prattled in her mind that if she could have chosen whom to love, she would have probably chosen Guy; but she could have been mistaken as Robin was always on her mind. There was always that "_probably_" in her mind, she always hesitated, and she cursed in her mind her own stupidity and confusion. It was a choice – not a chance – which determined destiny. Marian made her choices, but she still brooded over her past decisions, trapped in the old love triangle consisting of Robin, Guy, and herself. Maybe choices were questionable and could evolve. Perhaps not only choice could influence over her life, or maybe she did a wrong choice.

She stared at her wedding ring with an oval cut center diamond surrounded by five diamonds. She sighed as she remembered the engagement rings Robin had given her twice when he had proposed to her. When he had proposed before his first departure to the Holy Land, Robin had given her an exquisite silver ring featuring the massive sapphire carved in the shape of a flower and three small oval cut diamonds around the center; she had fallen in love with that ring. The second ring had been a beautiful engagement ring featuring a large oval cut emerald surrounded by a sunburst of diamonds; but it had been large and rather eccentric.

Her gaze wandered to Guy's wedding ring again on her index finger; she liked it a great deal, but there was no ring that could ever compare to her sapphire engagement ring, which she had thrown into Robin's face when he had notified her about his decision to fight in the Holy Land. That ring had been a graceful and elegant piece of jewelry, which once belonged to Robin's mother; she had especially liked that there had been the massive sapphire center carved in the shape of a small flower. Now she wanted to learn about the fate of that ring, wondering whether Robin had taken it from the ground in the forest after she had thrown it into his face.

Guy sighed. Even though Marian had been with Robin Hood, his sworn enemy, he considered that impossible to fall out of love with Marian; at least he wanted to think so because she was his only salvation from his demons and misery. He let out a sigh of frustration as he once again realized that his heart still belonged to Marian with the flashing sapphire blue eyes, challenging and seducing him, despite all her so-called betrayals. He wanted her full surrender to himself; he craved to make her forget about Robin of Locksley's existence. He prayed that one day she would come to love him as he loved her with all her heart.

Guy was the first to give in. He leaned forward and Marian flew into his embrace. He drew her to him and kissed her in her lips, fiercely and possessively. They clung to one another like two desperate children lost in a forbidding forest. Their lips met, hers softening and molding beneath the firm warmth of his. Their tongues touched and tangled in a mating dance that sent hot spears of desire darting through them both. Guy's hand tightened into her hair; his other hand was at the nape of her back.

Guy stared at her, his eyes darkened with passion. "When you are with me, I want to forget everything and everyone in the world."

She arched an eyebrow. "Even the sheriff?"

Guy flinched under her intensive gaze. "Especially the sheriff."

Marian looked at him, her eyes large and smoldering. "When you are sincere and kind and brave, I think I love you, Guy," she admitted, unexpectedly, even to herself.

His warm smile answered hers. "I love you, my Marian, more than anything and anyone in my life."

Guy pulled her closer to himself. Unable to resist the sweet lure of those lips, he gave a low groan and found her mouth with his. Hungrily he kissed her, surrendering himself to the driving, primitive emotions that suddenly flooded through him at the touch of his lips against hers.

Trapped by the restraining hands on her shoulders, Marian trembled from the force of the emotions that racked her as Guy's warm, questing tongue filled her mouth, the velvet length of it stroking seductively against her own tongue, blatantly inviting her to follow suit. Her head swimming, a curiously weak feeling creeping through her very bones, she swayed nearer to him, unconsciously offering herself to him, her lips helplessly parting even further before his demanding kiss.

The spell was broken by the sheriff's loud scream of rage. Marian and Guy parted from one another.

Vaisey was beside himself with anger, shrieking and screaming and cursing hysterically. It seemed as if hearing his rancorous voice again had destroyed everything around Marian and Guy and held them motionless, for they froze for an instant, staring at each other. Then they heard the sheriff's another scream, and shuddered.

"His screams… like a wild beast howling," Marian commented.

"Very loud," Guy agreed. "He is very angry."

Guy marched to the door and opened it. He paused for instance moment, half turning to her and giving her a faint smile. The door thrust open by a masterful hand and Guy stepped outside the room.

§§§

In the corridor, Guy heard the familiar angry shouts louder, as well as sounds of the voices calling for the guards, and then the sheriff's curses that the Nightwatchman had escaped and had killed his men. He laughed cynically, his voice thickening with emotion of his triumph over Vaisey that he had finally managed to outwit the crafty sheriff and, most importantly, saved Marian.

"Gisborne! Gisborne! Where are you, idiot? Come along, come to me, you blithering oaf! You again failed me! You failed to capture the Nightwatchman!" Vaisey screamed, not wishing to contain his fury. "And now the Nightwatchman started killing my men!"

Guy encountered Vaisey near the staircase. "Milord, I am sorry, but what happened?"

"Gisborne, are you deaf? I called you, but you didn't answer!" the sheriff accused, advancing towards Guy. "You failed to capture Robin Hood in Nottingham, but you also failed to capture Hood's accomplice, the Nightwatchman! But I still want the Nightwatchman and Hood's pretty little faces on their pretty little heads attached to their pretty little bodies on a pretty big spike outside my chamber!"

Guy looked at his master helplessly. "I will do everything I can, milord."

"You will fail, as always." Vaisey waved his head.

"Sire, I assure you that I will not fail next time," Guy protested. His pride was injured, but he was secretly pleased that he had outwitted the sheriff.

"Gisborne, you have a visitor!" the sheriff cried angrily.

"I will see him." Guy gave a curt nod, an answering spark in his own eyes.

Vaisey and Guy made their way downstairs, to the great hall. Guy ran his eyes across the vast area and gasped at the sight of his visitor, whom he acknowledged even from the back. It didn't matter that he didn't see her for so many years, for he could recognize the guest even in eternity.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," the lady said in sweetest tones.

Gisborne lowered his head. "Good afternoon," he barked, not looking at his visitor.

Vaisey let out a viperous laugh. "Well, you might lower your head in shame, Gisborne. You have let our night hero escape again and this, this... Is this… is what distracted you?" He pointed his finger at the lady and laughed louder, the ugly sound reverberating in the vacuum of the room.

"This is my sister, Lady Isabella Ghislane of Shrewsbury," Guy informed.

"My lords, I prefer to be called Lady Isabella of Gisborne," Isabella remarked with a small smile. She strode forward and curtsied deeply before the sheriff. "I am pleased to meet you again, Lord Vaisey."

The sheriff chucked. "It is good to see you, little Isabella, and after so many years! I didn't recognize you at first… but now I see that it is really you."

Isabella smiled. "My lord, I am pleased to see you, too."

Vaisey laughed, staring at Guy. "Oh, I am so sorry. Gizzy, you were busy playing happy families." He took a step towards Guy and playfully panted his shoulder. "Well, your level of incompetence never ceases to amaze me, Gisborne. Every time I think you have plumbed a new depth, you again disappoint me! Well, maybe now Prince John will remember why he put me in command!"

The sheriff walked away in a proud manner, his hands clasped behind his back. Isabella of Gisborne and Guy of Gisborne looked at each other, both contemplating one another after so many years of separation. Isabella's lovely face was crumpled with fright and all her pert deserted her at the sight of Guy's impassive and cold face before she recovered her confidence.

"Oh, Guy, I finally found you!" Isabella cried out. "Are we going to stay here long?"

"No, Isabella, not very long. Follow me," Guy instructed.

Guy walked down the great hall, heading to the study room. He abruptly stopped as he saw Marian standing on the stairs. His wife moved slowly and gracefully, her eyes focusing at the unfamiliar lady. Guy lowered his gaze, utter stupefaction spreading over his features; he didn't wish to have Isabella and Marian face-to-face.

"Good afternoon," Marian began, her tone formal.

Isabella made a gracious curtsey to Marian. "I hope you are doing well, my lady." She turned her eyes at Guy. "Guy, she is your wife? Congratulations, you won a good prize."

Guy might have shot him a wry look had the matter not been so unpleasant for him. "Yes, Lady Marian Fitzwalter of Knighton, Lady Gisborne, is my wife."

Isabella contemplated Marian for a moment; then she smiled. "I am pleased to meet you."

"Marian, this is my sister, Lady Isabella of Gisborne," Guy made an introduction, his tone tense.

"I am… pleased to meet you, too, Lady Isabella." Marian sounded baffled and slightly amused.

Staring at the young woman almost rudely, Marian thought that Lady Isabella of Gisborne was one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen. Isabella was dressed in an expensive pale yellow muslin dress trimmed with a low V-shaped neckline and delicate yellow lace. Her long dark brown hair was unbound, flowing down her back like a second veil. Her gown set off the color of her hair and enhanced the rosy glow of her cheeks and lips. In the rays of the weak morning sun, she glittered like a sun-drenched crystal.

Marian could see the amusement and mischief lurking in Isabella's eyes every time she batted those long lashes at Guy. Her blue eyes were expressive and almond-shaped, sparkling like the depths of blue ocean above her full, extremely sensual lips. Her nose was small and straight, emphasizing high cheekbones and a long, swan-like neck. She moved with a natural grace Marian couldn't help but envy. Her small, voluptuous body was clearly defined beneath the revealing clothes she wore, causing Marian to catch her breath in dismay.

"Lady Marian, I remember you as a small girl; you were beautiful and stubborn. You always peaked my interest, for you were a unique child," Isabella purred, looking at Marian with a wide smile.

Marian gulped. "You knew me as a child, didn't you?"

Isabella gave her a leering smile. "Of course. At that time, though, you were always running around with Robin of Locksley. I also participated in your games from time to time."

Guy stared at his sister, dry-mouthed and suddenly cold. "Enough, Isabella," he said in peremptory tones. He came closer to his wife and took her hands in his, his fingers gently stroking her wrists. "Marian, I am sorry, but I need to talk to my sister in private."

"I will wait for you upstairs," Marian conceded. She glanced at Isabella, uneasily. "I wish you to have a pleasant evening, Lady Isabella," she said formally and curtsied to Guy's sister.

"You are most kind," Isabella said, also curtsying to the younger woman.

"Finish your exchange of pleasantries," Guy grunted hastily. "Isabella, follow me."

Guy let Marian go and walked away from her, towards Isabella. He eyed his sister suspiciously, and then extended his hand to Isabella; she took his hand, smiling at Guy. Isabella waved at Marian slowly, almost imperiously, and smiled brightly, then followed her brother.

Marian stared after the retreating back of Guy and Isabella, silently feeling anxious as their reunion clearly didn't please Guy. Oddly enough, Marian was smitten with Isabella's beauty, but she didn't feel emotional attachment to her. Marian hesitated a little, and then she wandered towards the staircase.

As Marian was about to leave the great hall, Allan entered from the courtyard. He was flushed and breathless after running from the sheriff's men in the disguise of the Nightwatchman into the town; in one of the empty lanes, he hastily changed his clothes and then hurried back to the castle. He was surprised that Marian had decided to go on the Nightwatchman's business; he was even more shocked that Guy had killed his own men to save her.

"Hey!" Allan's voice resonated near Marian. "I am here."

Marian turned her gaze at Guy. Gathering her composure herself, but aware that she couldn't show her weakness, she went forward to greet Allan. She was very grateful for what he had done for her.

"Allan? Are you alright?" Marian gave him a worried look.

"I am fine, and you are safe," Allan said quietly but firmly.

She smiled at him with gratitude. "Thank you. You saved my life."

"Welcome, Maz." Allan smiled. "Where is Guy?"

"Guy is with his sister, Lady Isabella of Gisborne. She arrived here an hour ago."

Allan's eyed widened. "Guy has a sister?"

Marian made a helpless gesture. "Yes."

"Oh!" Allan blinked.

"I had the same sensation when I learnt about her existence."

"Let's go upstairs, Marian." He smiled warmly, motioning with his head.

Guy of Gisborne stepped into the spacious study room, and Isabella followed him step by step. He immediately started pacing the chamber up and down, his hands clasped behind his back and an anxious look on his face. Abruptly, he came to a stop in front of his sister.

Guy stared at his sister, his forehead furrowing in displeasure. "Why are you here, Isabella?"

Isabella pulled up a chair and sat down with a little sigh of relief they were finally alone, spreading the shimmering skirts of her yellow silk gown about her. "I could not endure another day with him."

His scowl deepened. "And what, Isabella? You just walked away?" He pointed an index finger at her. "You were joined in holy matrimony!" He turned away from her.

Isabella's eyebrows shot up, her temper immediately rising. She barely managed to keep her control and not to attack Guy as a feeling of burning hatred revived in her heart. But she smiled at him, reminding herself why she came to Nottingham and who sent her. "I was only a thirteen-year-old girl. If you have any idea what he did to me..."

He grasped her hand. "What do you want from me?"

She clasped her hands together in a gesture of childish entreaty."Guy, I am your sister. Surely, you didn't forget that we have the same blood in our veins. All I ask for is your protection."

"Really? And what if I decide to send you back to your husband?"

Isabella shook her head in despair. "Then you would be condemning me to a life of misery for the second time. Only this time you would be doing it knowingly."

"Why should I care about that?"

"Guy, I don't believe you knew the damage you were doing when you sent me to Squire Thornton, but now you do know the truth. Surely you must feel some obligation to me, a sense of loyalty, duty?"

"Loyalty? And can I expect loyalty from you?"

"Give me a chance," Isabella pleaded.

"You must swear that you will never talk about Robin of Locksley in my presence," Guy snapped.

She gazed at him in terror. "You still hate him?"

"Never say his name!" Guy shrieked indignantly, furious to feel himself paling.

"I swear that I will never remind you about him," she pledged. "I will earn your trust and your respect but please... don't send me back to my husband."

"If you defy my authority, I will drag you back to Shrewsbury myself," he promised. "Is that clear?"

Isabella darted him a sly look out of the corner of her eyes and wrinkled her nose at him saucily. "You have my word, brother."

"Very well, then you may stay under my protection," he told her.

She did sense the hesitation before her brother's voice came to her, cold and distant. "Thank you, Guy." Dropping her head to avoid his hard gaze, she thought that everything had gone as she planned.

"You shouldn't thank me. I don't think that you will like living here."

Isabella smiled. "Believe me that it will be much, much better than it was with my husband."

"You shouldn't have walked away from your husband," Guy said rudely. "If Squire Thornton finds you and comes here, I will make you leave with him."

"Guy, do you hate me so much that you are ready to give me back to my husband?"

"Stop talking nonsense, Isabella," he growled. "It doesn't suit you."

Isabella tossed her head. "And does being married to a cruel beast suit me well?"

With some difficulty, Guy bit back the comment that he wasn't interested in listening to her family life. "Does your husband at least know where I live? Can he come here?"

"Guy, you haven't answered to my question."

"Oh, the same old same old," he snapped wrathfully. "Will you ever grow tired of complaining on your husband?"

"Why should I?" Isabella glowered at him defiantly. "You don't know whom you gave my hand in a marriage so many years ago in Angers."

"Isabella, I gave you a chance to have a better life."

She scoffed. "You don't know what I had to endure in my marriage!" She sounded desperate, but her tone was chilly. "I hate my wedding day! It was the day when my life was ruined!"

Many years ago, Vaisey and Guy had left Rouen and had traveled through the county of Anjou, heading to Angers. Isabella had accompanied Guy on the trip. She had been displeased that Guy had forced her to leave the castle in Conches, where he had arrived from Rouen and then had announced that he had left Sir Roger de Tosny's service. Isabella had wanted to stay in the castle where she had lived for several years in relative happiness, enjoying Roger de Tosny's attention and his kindness. She had been even more displeased that Guy had forced her to leave Normandy and travel to Anjou.

Vaisey and Guy had murdered several knights loyal to Prince Richard in the city of Angers. It had been the first time when Guy had literally bathed in blood of the innocent men whom he had cruelly killed at Vaisey's order. Guy had been christened as an experienced cool-blooded murderer in Angers, not in Rouen where he had killed only one man in the Forest of Rouvray after meeting with Vaisey. In Angers, Vaisey had become _Guy's godfather, the executioner of his innocence and his most vicious tormentor_.

In Angers, Vaisey had introduced Guy to Squire Thornton, his second cousin, who had fancied Isabella at the first glance. The sheriff had paid Guy only a small fee for his services, explaining that he had already pardoned Guy his huge debt. Vaisey had told Guy that he couldn't have given him money to pay for the official knighthood training in Rouen scheduled for next summer. Besides, Guy hadn't possessed enough money to support Isabella financially. Thus, he had quickly agreed when Square Thornton had offered him a good fortune for Isabella's hand in a marriage.

Guy had thought that his sister needed the gravitas of marriage to elevate her social standing in the society; he had believed that marriage to Thornton could have given his sister a chance to have a better life. It had prompted Guy to sell his own sister to the man whom he had seen only once in his life. After the wedding, Guy had left his sister with Squire Thornton and had departed with Vaisey.

"You are exaggerating," Guy snapped. "Your husband is a wealthy man. He can take care of you."

She stiffened, her jaw clenched. "My husband doesn't care for me as a person. I am not a human being in his eyes – I am nothing for him. He only wants to sit me down with a pile of smelly fleeces and make me spin while he enjoys insulting and humiliating and beating me!"

"You are his wife! You must obey your husband! He is your lord!"

She chuckled darkly. "My husband has been beating me throughout many years. And you think that it is alright because we are a wedded couple and because he is my lord?"

Guy had nothing to tell her. He hadn't known Squire Thornton and had never suspected that he could have been cruel to Isabella. If he agreed with her, it would mean that he recognized his own mistake, and it was not what he wanted.

"Isabella, please let's finish this conversation."

"I just want to understand, Guy, how you could have married me off to the man whom you saw only once in your life," Isabella persisted. "You got rid of me as though I had been a piece of dirt." Her face was wistful. "You and I lived so well in Conches, at Roger de Tosny's beautiful castle. We were not rich and we didn't have lands, but we were not poor and we didn't starve."

"Isabella, stop." He was barely holding his temper back. The reminder of the fact that he had left his service to Sir Roger de Tosny after the man had been wounded on a tournament in Rouen sent him to the verge of madness. It was one of the most significant regrets in his life.

"Sir Roger de Tosny was interested in me," Isabella persisted, her stubborn and wounded heart winning the battle with her nature of a consummate actress and liar. "Sir Roger was so kind to me! He always invited me to ride together, and you allowed us to ride into the forest without being chaperoned by you. He gave me some gifts, including my favorite sapphire necklace which I still have."

"I know that Roger liked you," Guy agreed. "I didn't chaperone you because I trusted him."

"And you didn't trust me, did you?"

"Isabella," Guy addressed his sister in a voice as warm as he used in childhood, "You were just a girl of twelve years old when Roger showed his interest in you. He could have done nothing to you. And Roger is an honest and kind man."

"Sir Roger was a man of honor," Isabella agreed, her expression unusually bright. "And if I had been older and if you hadn't left his service, he would have started courting me." Her blue eyes revealed anguish. "Sir Roger could have married me if you, Guy, hadn't run away from him to Lord Peter Vaisey! And then I would have been free from my husband who ruined my life!" She gritted her teeth. "It would have been better to retire to a convent than to be married to Squire Thornton!"

A cold and bloody rage overtook Guy. Her words were equivalent to moving the blade against Guy's throat. Her words cut him as close as a razor could do.

"What don't you understand, Isabella?" Guy screamed savagely. He barely controlled his anger. "You know very well that Roger was seriously wounded on a tournament. He barely survived his injury. He didn't need a squire any longer, at least for six months; but we did need money to survive."

Isabella let out a sarcastic laughter, her expression growing grim. "It is a typical argument," she said with contempt. "You always find something to justify yourself."

"Isabella, if you don't stop your hysteria, I myself will take you back to your husband, to Shrewsbury."

She continued to glare at him, but now her eyes brimmed with tears and her jaw trembled. "I hate you!'" she spat, and whirling round, ran towards the hall.

Guy sighed. Isabella needed a firm hand to control her and guide her in a life, he thought. More specifically, she needed a hand of a firm man whom she could have considered an authority and whom she could have respected. Of course, Squire Thornton couldn't be such a man, for she hated him and he seemed to be a cruel man. But Isabella was a married woman, and there was nothing that could have changed that, apart from her husband's death.

He wondered whether her husband was indeed so cruel and whether her heart was too scarred by the unfortunate experience in her marriage. Isabella had always been prone to dramatization, and he suspected that she exaggerated her personal drama. His mind glided to the thoughts of Sir Roger de Tosny, Baron de Conches, who had fancied Isabella in the past, and his heart filled with pain that he had been forced by Vaisey to leave Roger and be hired by him. If he had continued serving de Tosny at least for some time more, Isabella could have married Roger.

At the same time, Isabella was running to her bedroom, which the sheriff gave her in the castle. As soon as she remained alone, she felt tears prickling behind her lids now. Chills shuddered through her body and she was shuddering in rage, hatred and pain. She was sobbing with frustration and fury at her own impotence to control her fate, to be independent from men whom she grew to hate. Once started, she couldn't stop, and the more she tried to hold back, the harder she cried. She lay on her stomach on the bed, her face buried in her hands, and she began to cry. She wept herself dry until there was not one tear left, until her entire being was demolished by the strongest emotional pain. From there, she drifted into an exhausted doze, her limbs twitching and jerking in the aftermath of hard, physical effort.

Isabella hated Guy for marrying her off to the cruel beast. She hated the day of her wedding to the man who ruined her world, which was the last happy day of her life. She hated Squire Thornton with all her heart, but she had played a role of a beautiful and happy wife throughout their marriage. And beneath pretense she had hated her life. The only alternative had been to run away, but long years of married life in Shrewsbury had deprived her of all the contacts in England her parents could have ever had, while Guy had deserted her a long time ago.

Squire Thornton had always been a cruel brute who had violated Isabella physically every day and had almost murdered her several times. Thornton had almost broken her spirit and will, but she had managed to survive. Isabella of Gisborne had been alone in the world, with alone with her pain and hatred, and, thus, she had stayed in Shrewsbury, chained to Thornton and obliged to endure his mad cruelty and latent sadism, paying a high price for being fed and having a roof above her head.

There had been no light in the darkness for Isabella until one happy day, or the day that had been much better than any other day in her life since she had married Squire Thornton. Maybe one day she would be able to find enough strength to tell Guy how many horrible things her husband had done to her.

§§§

During the next several days, Marian spent her time in her bedchamber. For whatever reason, Guy asked her to keep confined to their room, which puzzled her. Every morning she awoke in the morning and found several platters with breakfast on a silver tray, as if Guy had ordered to bring the meal to her to prevent her from leaving the room.

Guy became extremely reserved and very secretive. Yet, he did something very odd for his quiet, reserved disposition; he was unnerved beyond measure when they were alone in their bedchamber, and he often shook his fists, as though at some invisible third person present in the room.

Marian saw that something serious was going on around her, but she had no clue what it could have been. Guy's unusual demeanor proved that; she was frightened, but put on a serene face and smiled at him. The sheriff was in unusually high spirits at that time, and Marian wondered what caused such a dramatic change in the man who had been so intemperate more than two weeks ago when he had again failed to capture the Nightwatchman. All those subtle changes frightened Marian.

Guy shared the bedchamber with Marian, and they made love to each other every night. She feared that she could have been pregnant after her only time with Robin in the woods, but nothing had happened. Robin had promised her that she shouldn't have feared because he had been excessively careful. She hadn't needed to be very experienced to understand what he had meant: Robin had been intimate with many women, but he had never sired a bastard on any of his lovers, as he himself had told Marian, for he had known how to effectively prevent conception of a child.

Now Marian was a married woman, and she wondered why she didn't conceive yet since she had married Guy: Guy wasn't careful during their intimacies, they shared a bed regularly, and she had many chances to conceive. Then she remembered her injury in her lower abdomen, which she had received on the day when she had tried to rob Guy before their first wedding ceremony. Djaq had informed Marian that she could have had problems to conceive or bear a child. Recently, Matilda had told her the same when she had come to her and asked why she hadn't gotten pregnant so far; the old healer had only advised to continue trying for a baby, stating that at times it could be difficult to conceive. Marian wanted to have her own child and feared that she was barren.

Guy of Gisborne always made love to her till dawn, trying to drive all the shadows and fears from her heart and mind, leaving only passion to color her dreams. Her husband made love to her in every conceivable fashion he could imagine. He teased and tantalized her until she was drunk with his kisses and his touch. She writhed and moaned in his arms, her groans deep and throaty with emotion. Yet, she still remembered Robin, and her mind often drifted back to her former betrothed as Guy kissed and caressed her; Robin's ghost haunted her day and night.

Once, Guy came to the bedroom nearly at midnight. He spent more than an hour with the sheriff in his study room, planning their upcoming trip to the Holy Land. Vaisey also invited Isabella to have a cup of ale together; Guy noticed that his sister talked with more pleasure to Vaisey than to him, his own brother, and he was displeased with that. If she hated Squire Thornton, she must have hated Vaisey because it was the sheriff who gave Guy an idea to marry his sister off to Squire Thornton. Yet, Isabella seemed to like Vaisey's company more than Guy's.

"Marian, I will have to leave soon," Guy said. He began undressing. He removed his sword belt and put his sword on the table in the corner of the room. Then he began unfastening his shirt.

Marian felt her body trembling. "Why?"

"The sheriff and I have to leave Nottingham for a while."

She was alarmed. "Are you again going to London?"

He stared at her, a frown between his thick dark brows. "I have my deals. I must go, but I don't like leaving you," he said belligerently, as if it was her fault that he had to leave Nottingham.

She met his steel blue eyes briefly, then looked down, on the floor. "How long will you be gone?" she managed to ask after a long pause.

"I will be absent for… several weeks," Guy murmured, wishing that she didn't ask him those questions. He wasn't ready to tell her that he was going to the Holy Land. He lied that he would be absent for several weeks instead of six months or more. He couldn't tell her the truth.

"So much time?" She was amazed.

"You think so?"

"And you are ready to leave me again?"

His expression softened. "Life will be like purgatory; I don't want to go there, but I have to."

"Then stay with me." Her tone was almost pleading.

"I cannot do that." He shook his head, looking into her eyes. "Will you miss me?"

"Yes, Guy, I will," Marian said with a small smile. She didn't lie – she missed him when he was away.

Guy leaned to snuff the candles on the bedside table. Then he drew the hangings close around their bed. Marian would have preferred to see his expression and knew he had probably quenched the light so that she couldn't. His willingness to hide his emotions more than he usually did confirmed that something serious was going on.

Guy took Marian in his strong arms and kissed her with that strange, disquieting mixture of need and anger. She felt his hand on her arm and then her breast, his palm and fingers hard from wielding sword and gripping rein, but slender and infinitely gentle. Never had she been kissed with such rapacious hunger. Marian thought that his mouth had possessed hers as though he had owned it. Never had Guy poured so much molten passion into a kiss, and she thought she might melt at his feet. He plunged his tongue deeply, exploring intimately as though it was his undeniable right to do so. Then he lay atop of her, and they together joined in a dance of love.

Lying abed with Guy in the aftermath of their tumultuous lovemaking, Marian tried to make sense of all the disjointed snippets of information she had collected so far. It was like being blindfolded and walking into the depths of dark forest, hoping to find a way to her final destination, yet knowing that she would need at least one candle or a glimpse of sunlight to avoid losing her way in the maze of trees and bushes. Her mind raced through the events of the past weeks, and she was still at the dead end.

In spite of all her fears and anxiety, Marian quickly fell asleep, and her night was calm and peaceful. Unlike Marian, Guy was gripped by powerful nightmares, tossing and turning in his bed.

In his dreams, Guy saw the halo of the burning Gisborne Manor, the flames licking high above the roof. He dreamed of Bailiff Longthorn and the crowd of angry villagers. He could hear the bailiff's sharp voice commanding to set up the fire at the external part of the manor, his words stabbing Guy right into his heart. He heard how the bailiff intimidated the villagers that leprosy would kill everyone in Locksley and in Nottingham if they didn't stop spreading the disease in the village and in the shire.

Guy moved his body and rolled over on his belly, heat burning his skin and his heart pounding with dread. In his dreams, he envisioned the villagers throwing torches at the manor and could hear the villagers screaming in horror as the flames were absorbing the building. He could hear the bailiff accusing him of murdering his own parents and banishing him and Isabella from Locksley. And then Robin's frightened face emerged in his mind, but the image was swiftly replaced by the vision of Isabella and Guy being forced to leave Locksley and Robin watching their plight.

Then another nightmare gripped Guy's mind. He started seeing many dead men whom he had killed at Sheriff Vaisey's order, having visions of heads and limbs being blown off, of smashed bloodied bodies with staring eyes, while, on top of that, reliving every action of his own, every thrust of his broadsword in stomachs, chests, necks, skulls, sides, and legs of his victims. His body trembled under a blanket as he imagined the corpses of all his victims being arranged in a long, very long line. Guy could see the faces of every man whom he had killed, and could imagine their eyes full of horror and pain. He could see faces of even all the men whose lives he hadn't taken, but who appeared in his horrible dreams like ravenous beasts ready to tear his heart and soul apart.

Soon Guy was again dreaming of the fire, but it wasn't the fire at Gisborne Manor. The dream was different – he was again dreaming of hell and hellfire. With a cloud of sparks and a shriek of unutterable pain, a black figure emerged from the flames, and the features of that man were unclear. Guy was so frightened that he could barely stand straight; he saw himself stepping away from the flames and flinging out his arms for balance as if he had never stood on his own before.

Guy was trying to run away from the dark male figure, but he failed. He could feel the rough hands grabbing him by his shoulders, inflicting great pain on him. Then Guy could finally see the face of his tormentor – the man was Sheriff Vaisey whose sneering face was so close that Guy shuddered in revulsion and horror. Vaisey took Guy's hand and invited him to go to hell together, and as Guy took it, the sheriff howled with triumph and led him to a life of eternal damnation.

Guy screamed in horror. His eyes flung open. He moved himself in a sitting position and stared into the emptiness of the room. Despite relatively cold weather outside and the noticeable chill in the chamber as the fire at the hearth was gone, Guy's night robe was soaked with cold sweat as he awoke.

"God help me," Guy murmured.

Marian also awoke. She pulled herself into a sitting position, staring at Guy in the darkness. "Guy, what is going on? Did you have a nightmare?"

"I did," he confessed.

She wrapped her arm around his back. "Guy…"

He drew away from her. "I am alright."

"No, you are not alright," she protested, trying to reach for hi, but he pushed her back.

"I am fine," he growled.

"I want to help you."

Guy turned over and set his arm around her waist. "I am sorry," he murmured. "Please sleep."

Marian nodded and said nothing. She had understood a long time ago that Guy had suffered from the nightmares about the fire at Gisborne Manor and the death of his parents in the flames. She also suspected that he had dreams about the people whom he had killed. She once tried to talk to him about his dreams, wishing to ease his burdens and support him, but he always cut her off sharply, saying that he wasn't ready to talk about that. If she insisted, he became angry and they quarreled.

Guy lay under a blanket, his eyes shut, his breathing labored. His horrible dreams about the fire and the people whom he had killed at Vaisey's order were nothing new to him. He had the same dreams for many years. The dream about Vaisey and hellfire was a new nightmare that started plaguing Guy only recently. He often wondered whether this nightmare meant that he would end up in hell after his death if he hadn't done anything to atone for his sins.

The nightmares exhausted Guy physically and mentally. He shook his head, wishing to have at least an hour of peaceful sleep. When will these dreams leave him in peace? Surely he wouldn't survive for long enough if he didn't sleep peacefully at all and was always plagued by nightmares about hell. He was ready to tolerate the dreams about the fire at Gisborne Manor and even about Robin Hood, but not about the sheriff and hell. What should he do now? Why had God forsaken him many years ago?

Next morning, Marian awoke to a room flooded with brilliant sunshine. Guy was not in the bed, and she believed that he left the room at dawn. She climbed out of her bed and ran to the window, bathing her face in the weak and chilly rays of the spring sun that was now rising astern of them, above the walls and towers of the castle. After breakfast, Marian began pacing restlessly around her bedchamber, uncertain what to do next. She longed to go out but she didn't wish to break her word she gave to Guy – she had promised that she would stay in her room for some time and wouldn't leave it; she didn't want to have arguments with him.

As time passed she grew increasingly worried and discontented at being obliged to remain indoors when she wanted so badly to go out and start inquiries about what was happening. She knew that Guy's sister was still in the castle, wondering whether Guy had changed so much due to Isabella's presence in the castle. The worst was that Guy gave her only plain emptiness instead of his attention as though she had been beneath his notice.

Unable to tolerate loneliness anymore, Marian dressed carefully in a modest leaf green gown trimmed at the hem with gold embroidery and adorned with light green laces on the sleeves. The gown was gorgeous, made out of expensive silken fabric that draped and clung to her graceful and well-curved body, accentuating her beauty in the way that made clear it had been crafted for her alone; it was one of Guy's recent gifts to Marian. Marian took a deep breath and said a silent prayer that she would find Allan soon, for he was the only man who could enlighten her about the secret events in the castle.

Marian stopped Allan in one of the corridors. "What is going on in the castle? Why is everyone so anxious?"

Allan looked around, careful not to be discovered by guards. "Maz, the sheriff says that we are leaving very soon."

She heaved a sigh. "Well, have they told you why?"

"We are going to Portsmouth," he said after a short pause. "That's all I know, Marian, alright? And you didn't get that from me, either."

"You know what this means?"

"No, I don't."

All at once, she stared at him, aghast, her brain reeling with shock, her heart pounding, her knees trembling. "The king. They must be expecting the king to land in Portsmouth."

Allan shook his head in denial. "No, Maz. The king is in the Holy Land. I know this for sure. This trip could mean anything for all I know."

"That's not good enough, Allan! They are planning something! Now what if it concerns the king? Or what if they are planning to sail for Acre to kill the king?"

His brow wrinkled. "It is possible. This trip is just the sheriff, Gisborne, and I. No soldiers, no mercenaries, but I feel it is serious."

"Are you going to do something?"

Allan gave a sour laugh. "Look, I am just a whipping boy around here."

Marian scoffed. "The packing boy." She pointed a finger at him. "Look, if you go along with treason, then you are committing treason, too."

Allan laughed. "I am not committing an act of treason because I am going to contact Robin."

Her face brightened, her heart hammered harder and harder. "Robin? How?"

He bent his head down, to her ear. "Robin sent a letter to me through the man whom the sheriff killed on the day of the fight with the villagers."

"Excellent!" she cried out joyfully. Then her face darkened. "But Robin is in the Holy Land…"

"Lord de Lacy told me that I can always come to him and tell him... But…" He stumbled with words.

"Did you do that?"

"I came to Locksley as soon as I learnt about our journey, but they told me that Lord de Lacy had left for the Pontefract Castle two hours before I came. He will return only in three-four days."

"We have to stop it," Marian said resolutely. "I am going to stop it."

Allan looked dumbfounded. "How?"

"I don't know. I will kill the sheriff if I have to."

Allan's eyes grew wider. "What?" He stepped towards her, shocked by the anger and determination in her voice and in her eyes. "Hey, Maz, have you forgotten what happens if the sheriff dies?"

"No. Prince John's armies will raze Nottingham to the ground."

"So leave it!" He turned away and headed for the storeroom under the north corridor of the castle.

Marian followed Allan. "Yes, but if the king is in the Holy Land, then Prince John would think that Vaisey had left, not that he is dead; the prince's men won't come here. Nottingham will be safe."

Allan stopped, glancing at her as though she had gone mad. "Are you going to save King Richard and England single-handedly?" he deduced, his voice laced with irony.

"No, I need your help! You have to help me! Even if Roger de Lacy is away, we have to kill the sheriff!" She heaved a relieved sigh, which promptly turned into a panicked shriek.

"No, Maz," he whispered. He feared what would happen to him if he tried and failed to kill Vaisey. "We cannot kill the sheriff without Roger de Lacy. We cannot do this without Sir Roger."

She touched his arm. "Have no fear, Allan. We will kill the sheriff and then–"

"Sorry, you are out of your depth. Leave everything to me. I will contact de Lacy by myself," Allan interrupted her, intending to go to the storeroom.

Marian smiled cunningly in his face, twitching her hips. "No, we have no time to wait. I am sorry."

Startled by her words and unerring determination, Allan frowned. He didn't have time to say anything else because Marian punched him into his jaw with such strength that he fell backward, dazed, then unconscious. She crouched near Allan's motionless form and took his sword belt. She leapt to her feet and headed to the door, looking around and checking whether the way was clear.

Marian made up her mind – she would try to kill the sheriff right now. "You underestimated me, Allan," she thought. "Damn you, Allan! That's just your style to depend on others to solve your problems, this time de Lacy, you coward! If you are a coward and fear to kill the sheriff, then I will have to do that and stop him in England before he leaves for Acre."

Marian quickly passed through the dim corridor and headed to the war room. As she heard Guy's voice calling Allan, she pressed herself into a shadowy corner and watched him pass her. She drew and dashed to the main doors. Inside the war room, she saw the sheriff swinging the pitcher up and setting it on the map, babbling something under his breath, his face smug and confident.

"My lords! Wonderful news, my lords! Glorious news!" Vaisey muttered, sneering and drinking wine from his goblet. As he put an empty goblet over the fireplace, he outstretched his arms and continued dreaming of power and fortune the king's death would bring him. "We, the Black Knights, stand on the verge of greatness." He chuckled, walking back to the map table. "We didn't wait for Mohammed to come to the mountain, no. We took the mountain to Mohammed!" He laughed gaily, his face pleased with himself. "We did not wait for the king to land..."

Marian held her breath and raised herself on tiptoe to get a better view. She placed a hand on the hilt of the sword and strode forward, her footsteps noiseless. As she stood behind Vaisey, she raised her sword to stab the sheriff from the back.

Unfortunately, she didn't notice that Sheriff could see Marian's reflection in the polished silver pitcher. As she lunged at him, the old man ducked and turned around to face her, grabbing her arm. She started fighting with the sheriff, but he made her spin around and pinned her onto the map table, holding his blade near her throat.

There was a gloating smile on Vaisey's face. "_Checkmate, my leper friend_."

Marian managed a fake smile. "Oh, well, a great pity."

But Marian wasn't ready to accept her defeat without a fight. Not losing time, she jumped and punched the sheriff with her legs; Vaisey cried out in pain and cursed. Marian slapped the sword away from the sheriff's hand with her arm, ignoring the pain in her palm as the sharp blade sliced her skin. Then she landed a fist against the sheriff's jaw, and Vaisey staggered backwards, but he didn't lose his balance.

The sheriff licked his dry lips, his face angry. "You are a good fighter, my little missy."

"My father wanted me to be able to take care of myself," Marian said proudly as she leaned down and tried to take the sword from the floor.

But luck was not on Marian's side. The sheriff rushed forward and grabbed Marian's forearms so tightly that she whimpered in pain. Then Vaisey slammed a hand over the lady's face and pushed her back to the wall, cornering her. But Marian still tried to fight with her captor: she punched the old man in his stomach and tried to run away, but Vaisey grabbed her arms, not wishing to let her go; he was physically stronger and wasn't ready to let her escape.

As the sheriff stood behind Marian, she gripped his forearms, wishing to throw him over her shoulder and then making an elegant somersault; she often did the same with guards. Yet, she underestimated the sheriff, for he was heavier and stronger than she had initially thought. He punched her in her head, making her to give a howl of pain, and then he spun her around to himself.

"_Again checkmate, my dear missy_," Vaisey said, looking into her cold eyes.

"You are a traitor," Marian retorted.

The sheriff laughed. "I hope you bear no hard feelings for treating you so badly, my little leper."

Vaisey punched Marian in her face so hard that she tumbled to the floor. Then the sheriff planted a heavy-booted foot on her chest, looking down at her and smiling menacingly.

"You are a spirited leper," Vaisey said, pressing his boot down over Marian's heart.

"You are an animal," Marian hissed in impotent rage.

"You made two big mistakes, missy," Vaisey growled, holding her hand tightly.

"At least I tried to stop you." She glared up at him, proud and fearless even in her compromised state, though she was scared and her entire body threatened to give way beneath her.

"But you failed."

"You are going to kill the king!" she accused.

"Yes, I am going to kill the king," Vaisey said directly. "Your husband, Gisborne, is also going to kill the king. And not only the king. We will also kill Robin Hood!"

"Robin won't allow you to kill King Richard! He will stop you!" Marian blurted out passionately.

"What is going on here? Who is going to kill and whom?" a loud female voice came behind Marian and Vaisey. It was Isabella's voice.

"Oh, someone else is joining out little tryst," the sheriff retorted, licking his lips.

Dressed in a long azure gown cut low over her breasts, Isabella of Gisborne was so covered by pearls that she seemed like a very creature of the sea. Isabella stared at Marian on the floor, with the sheriff standing over her and pressing her chest with his heavy boot. Isabella's eyes were growing wider and wider; her expression was lost at first, and then it evolved into a deep shock.

"My God," Isabella murmured.

Vaisey took a sword from the floor and pointed it at Marian's throat; his booth was still on Marian's chest. Marian's expression was pained as the pressure from the boot on her breast was enormous, but she didn't flinch, trying to ignore pain as best she could.

"Oh, we have a new guest!" The sheriff smiled nastily.

"What is going on? Oh, my God..." Isabella stammered, seeing the sword at Marian's throat.

The sheriff shrugged carelessly and laughed. "My Lady, I am delighted to see you!"

"Please leave Lady Marian! What are you doing to her?" Isabella was confused.

"Run, Lady Isabella, run," Marian moaned. Then she whimpered and gasped for air as Vaisey increased the pressure of the cold metal on her throat, almost cutting off the air for her.

"You came where you should have come, Lady Isabella! No need to escape!" the sheriff laughed. "Guards, guards, come here! They tried to kill me! Come here! Save your Sheriff from the assassins!"

Marian and Isabella shared shocked, helpless glances. They were cornered and trapped, hoping that Guy would somehow manage to save them.

Yet, Marian and others didn't know that Isabella had arrived in Nottingham with a special mission. Patiently, in endless games and pretense, Isabella developed her cunning strategy; she played all her dramatic games very well, with a combination of speed, art, and boldness which could have disconcerted even a skillful schemer, and for her the stakes were even higher than for Guy.

* * *

><p><em>I hope you truly enjoyed this chapter and the plot.<em>

_The plot is thickening as Vaisey and Guy are going to depart to the Holy Land soon. There are spoilers from season 2 in this chapter, as well as from season 3 because I brought Isabella into the plotline, for it is a high time to bring Guy's sister into the picture. Isabella plays an important role in this story._

_Guy is not very enthusiastic about killing the king, but he is still loyal to Vaisey and he also hates Robin Hood, for Robin was pardoned by the king and Guy again lost everything. Surely, Guy wants to take his revenge on Robin, but something is going to happen that will change Guy's opinion about Robin. In the Holy Land, the triangle of love and hatred is going to be untangled, and Guy's redemption is one of the most important events in the second part of the long story. I will say nothing more on the matter._

_As it happened on the show, Marian tried to kill the sheriff, but she failed. But we all know that Marian was the Nightwatchman for many years while Robin fought in the Holy Land alongside King Richard. On the show, I was surprised that Marian was defeated so easily by the sheriff, and to give credit to Marian's good fighting skills I changed this scene in my story. In my version of this episode, she violently fought with Vaisey and it was not easy for the old man to defeat her. _

_In the end, Marian and Isabella are trapped after Marian had failed to kill the sheriff and Isabella had become a witness of Marian's failure by chance. You can probably guess what is going to happen next. As Marian is defeated and cornered together with Isabella, the chapter's title is "Checkmate." _

_I saw in the reviews that my readers are trying to guess whom I am going to kill in this story, but I have to apologize that I cannot answer to this question. Once someone pointed out that I love Robin very much and can probably kill Guy to reunite Marian and Robin; because of that, I announced publicly and I can say the same again – Guy is not going to die. I also told many times in public (check the author's note in the prologue to both parts of the story) that I disagree with Marian's death on the show. I can only say that, unfortunately, someone is doomed to die in the new regicide attempt on King Richard's life. I cannot say anything else on the matter._

_To someone's relief and someone's sorrow, I have to say that chapters 6, 7, 8, and 9 are very dramatic and really full of emotions, angst, and mental anguish because the events in the Holy Land are shocking and tragic. But even if someone dies or is seriously wounded, I can assure you that you will understand why I introduced a particular twist, for every twist has its purpose; you know that I never introduce any twist without a reason. I am sure that you will come to understand and perhaps even like the outcome of the events in the Holy Land, even if I cannot promise you that everyone survives._

_I am an angst writer, and I have to agree with that; I like drama and tragedy, and I thrive when I write about dramatic and tragic situations and events. If you want to read something really emotionally gripping and extremely dramatic, then this part of the long epic is exactly what you are looking for. I think this part of the epic is more dramatic than part one; you are warned about that._

**_All the reviews are very welcome, even ones with harsh critique. I think all kinds of feedback are precious, and I always try to find in critique something useful to improve the plotline of a particular story and improve my own writing. _**

_I wish you to have a good weekend. _

_If you find any typos and/or mistakes here, please let me know about them in a private message. _

_Yours faithfully, Penelope Clemence_


	3. Chapter 2 A Wedding in Acre

**Chapter 2**

**A Wedding in Acre**

Guy of Gisborne stormed into the war room, surveying the surroundings; Allan followed him step by step. They froze in shock as they saw Marian and Isabella struggling with the guards who surrounded and overpowered them.

The sheriff commanded to have Marian and Isabella detained, and the guards tied up their wrists. One of the guards wriggled on the end of the rope, savaging Marian's wrists tighter, making her cry out in pain. Another guard tied the rope on Isabella's wrists.

"What is going on here?" Guy demanded harshly, confused.

Sheriff Vaisey chucked. "You missed all the fun, Gisborne."

Allan entered the chamber behind Gisborne. "Blimey, what has she done?" he mumbled to himself, understanding that Marian had failed to kill Vaisey; he was utterly confused what happened to Isabella.

"Gisborne, your hypocritical leper wife tried to take my life. And your leper sister heard about our plans," Vaisey told Gisborne. He pulled a face in a grimace that made him look uglier than ever; then he laughed. "Now I have both lepers in my custody."

Gisborne gave an inhumanly menacing glare to Marian. Then he looked at Isabella, his eyes as icy as frosted crystal, his lips drawn tightly in a furious frown. Marian glanced down, ashamed of betraying her husband's trust; Isabella bit her lips, her eyes flashing in anger with Guy and Vaisey.

"Allan, did you know something about this?" Guy asked.

Allan shook his head. "I didn't know anything."

The sheriff cast a sidelong glance at Guy. "Why would he know anything about this?"

"Marian knocked Allan out and took his sword," Guy reported.

Vaisey stared at Allan in disbelief. "What? What?"

Allan shrugged. "Well, I wasn't expecting it, was I? Or it wouldn't have happened."

Marian looked at Allan, her eyes enormous in shock. "Traitor," she spat.

"Oh, no, missy, he is a loyal man, while you are not," the sheriff retorted with a laugh. "Yeah, Gisborne, I am a better swordsman than your leper wife."

"I didn't try to kill the sheriff, Guy!" Isabella exclaimed. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she stood in abject misery. "Guy, you are my brother! You cannot allow him to kill me and your wife! We are your family! Guy, tell the sheriff to release me! I did nothing wrong."

Vaisey cocked an eyebrow and smiled into Guy's face. "Guy, I didn't try to kill the sheriff! Guy, I didn't try to do this… and to do that…." He laughed lightly, and shrugged his shoulders with an assumption of amazement. "Guy, we are a family! Guy, save me! What else can she say?" He enjoyed mocking Guy.

Marian took in Isabella's frightened face, thinking that she had been either a good actress or truly a good woman. "Let Lady Isabella go. She didn't try to kill you. She did nothing wrong."

Guy observed the sheriff, his wife, and his sister, with a confused expression. He was shocked and felt himself trapped at the dead end. He also knew that pleas would only irritate Vaisey. "My lord, what are you going to do now?"

Vaisey laughed. "Gizzy – dizzy – drizzly," he said in a singsong tone. "I am not taking the chance that you will ask me to release your lepers."

The sheriff's words wiped the stunned expression from Guy's face. "What do you mean?"

Vaisey pointed a finger at Guy, an ironic and haughty smile on his face. "Gisborne, you are checkmated and cornered, my boy. Your lepers trapped you and you are in my power."

A murderous silence hung in the air. The sheriff was humming something under his breath, pleased that he had finally trapped Guy. Guy stood quiet and somber, his expression thoughtful, his eyes darting between Marian and Isabella. Allan looked outwardly calm, but his body was trembling in every muscle. Isabella looked strangely detached, and Marian watched Guy with a small smile on her face.

Sheriff Vaisey clapped his hands, laughing. "Gisborne, you are in my power! You are mine!"

"As you wish, my lord," Guy said, bowing his head submissively.

"Guy, you cannot obey him!" Marian cried out.

"Shut up," Guy growled, his eyes twin blazes of blue flame; he didn't wish to anger the sheriff more.

Vaisey sneered at Guy, his face dark and sardonic. "Gizzy, you leper wife is making you meek and obedient as a lovesick idiot. Now your leper sister joined her and is making a wet rag from you. Unfortunately, you are completely incompetent and very stupid by nature, but you are also growing weaker and softer every day. I want you to change, Guy."

Marian was outraged. "My lord, you are behaving shockingly!" she fumed, with force, quivering with anger and indignation. "Why do you always humiliate Guy? Who gave you a right to humiliate Guy's sister and me? You have no right to say these disgusting things about us!"

Guy gripped his wife's forearm and forced her to look at him. Their eyes locked, and he saw cold determination and fury in her sapphire blue eyes. Guy gave her a hard glare, warning her that she had crossed the line. Allan helplessly stared at Marian, his gaze pleading her to stop.

Vaisey pursed his lips, displeased with her outburst. "Gisborne, I warned you to avoid any deals with lepers. You didn't listen and now you are in trouble," he said seriously, without a hint of mockery. "Gizzy, your pretty leper wife is a naughty little girl. You are her husband and lord, and you must teach her a good lesson. Punish her, if you are a man, not her puppet. You should whip her for her impudent manners and lack of judgment."

Marian glanced at Guy, her eyes appealing to him to defend her. "Guy, don't let him–"

Guy interrupted her. "Enough, Marian! Enough!"

"Marian, please calm down," Allan admonished, fearing Vaisey's fury. He flinched at Marian's fierce gaze she gave him in response.

The sheriff laughed. "Blah-di-blah-di-blah! Troubles in paradise, Gizzy?" he taunted, narrowing his eyes at his henchman. "Listen to me. We will teach her a lesson." His gaze slid to Marian. "Missy, you should learn to keep your mouth shut by now. You have created problems for Gisborne and yourself."

In that minute, Guy hated the sheriff with all his heart, wishing to rebel against the sheriff and teach him a lesson instead of Marian. But Marian's latest foolish actions, together with Isabella's unexpected interference, cornered Guy, and now he had to kill the king to save his wife and his sister. Guy also needed Vaisey as Robin again had an upper hand in their eternal struggle. He was again forced to reconcile with the necessity to live in the darkness and make wrong choices, tolerating Vaisey's abominable speeches and insults and siding with his master.

Guy's eyes met Vaisey's orbs that were alight with dark disdain towards Guy. Vaisey always gave him similar look when he was disappointed in him.

Guy smiled with a fake smile at the insult, his hands running over Marian's arm. "My lord, we humbly apologize if we displeased you. Marian will never do it again. I will take care of that."

Marian felt betrayed. Her eyes shoot daggers at Guy. "Guy, you–"

"Silence, Marian," Guy articulated between gritted teeth. "Enough was said and done."

Allan's eyes darted between Marian and Guy. Unlike Marian, he realized that Guy's behavior had to be rather submissive now in order not to infuriate the sheriff.

"Quite enough, for this leper tried to kill me," Vaisey retorted with a scoff.

"What is going to happen now?" Guy pressed, not intending to distract for Vaisey's sneering.

"Gisborne, your two lepers are coming with us to the Holy Land," the sheriff answered bluntly.

Isabella resumed struggling furiously but the guards held her tightly, and for all her frenzy to escape there was little she could do. "I don't want to go to the Holy Land! I did nothing wrong! Release me! You have no right to keep me here!" she cried out.

"You brought this upon yourself, Isabella," Guy said hoarsely, his eyes cold, almost lifeless. "You should have stayed with your husband."

"I hate you, Guy of Gisborne!" Isabella said through clenched teeth. "You can have no idea how much I hate you! I would like to see you dead and while I live I shall go on hating you!"

"What a spirited little Gisborne sister!" Vaisey nodded in appreciation. "Gisborne, teach your beloved sister a lesson. She is also a leper!"

"You are despicable!" Isabella whimpered.

Marian looked sharply at Gisborne. "Will you do something, husband?"

Guy looked at her, right into her eyes, trying to tell her that he would think of something and that she would understand him. "I don't know what to say," he said sincerely.

Isabella shot Guy a vicious look. "Bloody fool," she broke in curtly.

Vaisey rolled his eyes. "Yes, Gizzy is a fool who cannot handle his leper family! And now I am taking his lepers to the Holy Land!" He sneered. "I have never been there before. They say the weather is wonderful, and soon we will see this. Gisborne was there and said that it was warm in November."

"Let me go!" Isabella muttered through her teeth. "Let me go at once, or I will scream!"

"Come down, Lady Isabella. It is in vain," Marian recommended.

"Scream as much as you want, Isabella." Vaisey's face twisted into a large sardonic grin. "And you, my little leper missy, say right things for the first time today," he said, pointing his finger at Marian. He laughed louder. "Guards, take the prisoners to the dungeons. They will spend half of the night there, and then we will leave at dawn."

"My lord, I don't think that–" Guy said, but the sheriff interrupted him.

"Gizzy, you are not in any position to ask something," the sheriff snapped. "If you fail me again, you know who will pay for your failure. You should pray that we kill the king this time."

Guy nodded, but a small frown still worked its way up to his forehead. "I will do everything I must."

Vaisey patted Guy on his shoulder. "Good, Gisborne, good."

Sheriff Vaisey laughed at Guy and began humming something to himself. As Marian and Isabella were out of their sight, the sheriff resumed laughing. He liked humiliating and presently enjoyed flaring up the darkness of despair in his henchman's heart. The sheriff began striding up and down the room as he launched a flood of bitter insults at Guy's head. He finally found how to deal with Gisborne and subdue his will, and he intended to parlay the benefits of the situation. Sneering at Guy, he walked away, his head high, his spine straight, and then slammed the door behind him.

"Listen, Guy, Guy," Allan began. "The Holy Land… Is this what I think it is? Are we killing the king?"

Gisborne said nothing, but stared at his right-hand man. Then he narrowed his eyes at Allan. "You are a part of the inner sanctum now, Allan. You should be honored."

"No, no. I am. But we have to go to the Holy Land," Allan said rhetorically, as though to himself.

"_Our ultimate mission is to kill King Richard and it carries the ultimate prize._" Guy reached the coach and settled onto it. "_It is absolute power_."

"Well, yeah, for you and the sheriff."

"And you, Allan," Guy added. "The sheriff and Prince John will reward me for my loyalty. And then your loyalty will be rewarded in land and title, I will see to that."

"What, you mean something like a lordship or something?" Allan inquired.

Guy nodded his head. "Yes, Allan. You will be a lord of manor, a rich lord."

"And I will have power?" Allan asked.

"Yes, you will."

"Guy, but killing the king… it is very bold… and outrageous."

Guy laughed unpleasantly, almost mechanically. "Allan, don't tell me that Hood taught you lessons about Kings and power."

"No, Guy, he didn't."

"Allan, you must remember one important thing - power is not given by God, and Kings are usual people. Power is earned by the most capable, the most cunning, and the most intelligent people," Guy said resolutely.

"And you and I are the most capable men? Not pawns?" Allan was genuinely interested what Guy thought. He didn't believe that Vaisey would delegate to Guy much power if he had killed the king.

"A pawn can take a crown," Guy retorted.

Allan pondered over the possibility, sighing deeply; he was left with the only hope that King Richard would reward him for what he was going to do. "And what will happen to Marian and Lady Isabella?"

Guy's gaze found his and held it; then he averted his eyes. "When the king is dead, the sheriff will release Marian and Isabella," he assured.

Allan already knew what to do. He wasn't so sure that Vaisey would release Marian, who tried to kill him. As the darkness descended at the town, Allan managed to sneak into the dungeons and said to Marian that he was off to Pontefract to find Roger de Lacy; she only smiled weakly at him and urged him to leave the castle before dawn. One hour later, Allan was swiftly riding along the Great North Road. He headed to the Pontefract Castle, hoping that de Lacy didn't leave to another estate.

Although he was swathed from head to knees in a riding cloak of greenish brown heavily waxed wool, Allan shivered from cold, his breath steaming in the cold spring air. He urged his horse to ride faster, spurring it in its both flanks.

At sunrise, Marian and Isabella were both shackled and gagged, and the guards dragged them to the carriage. The ladies didn't resist at all, silently enduring their humiliation, though neither of them rejoiced to hear the clatter of chains. Guy looked for Allan but found nobody; as ill luck would have it, it was the sheriff who had noticed Allan's absence earlier than Guy.

The sheriff stopped near Guy. "Guy, don't be too disappointed."

Guy's face betrayed his curiosity. "What?"

"Your boy, Allan. He doesn't love you anymore. He ran away. He lost his nerve."

"I will find him," Guy said, sighing and lowering his head.

Vaisey shook his head. "No, no. Let him go. We don't need him, hmm? It is better this way. Just us."

Gisborne looked aside. "As you wish."

After several hours of non-stop riding, Allan finally saw the outlines of the Pontefract Castle, one of the most impressive and most unassailable castles in England, the embodiment of the sheer power with thick walls, semi-circular towers of various heights, a large front part, several inner and outer baileys. It was long past noon after he rode across the huge walled courtyard, but Allan felt neither tired nor hungry; he was interested only in finding de Lacy and notifying him about the trouble.

Allan was told to wait in the huge curtained hall. Soon, Roger de Lacy marched into the hall from his bedchamber. As he appeared at the doorway, he regarded Allan, smiling at him. Roger's entry, pompous and proud, had the effect of bringing about the instant dispersal of the servants; as he learnt who had come for an urgent visit, de Lacy instructed everyone to leave the hall upon his appearance there. De Lady looked very smart in his dark blue luxurious tunic with silver embroidery on the sleeves and on the chest, his hand resting on the hilt of his scimitar.

"Sir Roger! Sir Roger!" Allan called.

"Simply Roger," Roger de Lacy corrected. "Why are you here? Important matters?"

"Yeah, the sheriff and Gisborne… they…" Allan stuttered.

Roger looked alarmed. "What?"

"King Richard's life is in danger. The sheriff has already left for Portsmouth."

Roger's gaze turned sharp. "When?"

"They left Nottingham at dawn today," Allan replied.

"Follow me," Roger instructed Allan. He didn't waste more time and, crossing the chamber in a few swift strides, opened the heavy oak door and called: "Pack my things! I am leaving in half an hour!" He climbed the stairs and opened the door of one of the rooms upstairs, which appeared to be the study room. He advanced forward and dashed to the table. He began searching for something among the pile of parchments, muttering something in Norman-French to himself.

"Oh," Allan breathed.

Roger eyed him suspiciously. "Why are you so nervous? What else happened in Nottingham?"

"Marian and Isabella were taken hostage," Allan informed tensely.

"Why?" Roger de Lacy searched for the papers, scanning every parchment with his eyes.

"Marian tried to kill the sheriff in order to stop him."

"Lady Gisborne?" Roger put down a sheaf of parchments, and then turned his gaze back to Allan.

"Yes."

"What a pretty little fool! She is a woman! She should do her embroidery instead of playing a heroine!" de Lacy snapped, in a highhanded way.

Allan laughed. "Oh, she is an unusual lady, not quite a typical one."

"Not a typical?" de Lacy arched a brow.

"She is the Nightwatchman," Allan said sulkily, but after a moment's hesitation.

"How incredible it sounds, Allan!"

"Yeah, she at least had a good reason to kill the sheriff."

"She did a crazy thing!"

"I told her the same."

"Now I have everything we need for our journey to the Holy Land," de Lacy concluded, a satisfied smile lighting his face as he had found what he looked for.

Allan's mouth dropped open. "Are you gonna take me with you?"

Roger gave him a sidelong glance. "Of course."

"Hey, my things, Roger…"

"You will take something from my clothes. I am sure you took nothing with you."

"No, I have nothing. I couldn't attract attention to myself when I left."

"Good." Then de Lacy reached the desk and opened one of the drawers; he extracted two large purses with coins and weighted them in his hands. "We have enough money and all the necessary documents for our trip." He frowned. "I took care of everything in advance, except for the timing."

Allan sighed. "I am worried that we will be some time behind them."

"I will think of something," de Lacy assured as he started loading his wallet with golden coins.

Allan smiled; his companion's phrase reminded him of Robin. "I trust you will."

De Lacy huffed. "I drafted the papers for my second-in-command, whom I trust, to represent my own interests and Robin's interests in case I have to leave England again. It seems I envisaged danger."

"Danger always smells," Allan tried to joke.

"And who is Isabella?" Roger asked, without emotion.

"Gisborne's sister, Lady Isabella of Gisborne."

Roger de Lacy froze, holding the purse with coins in his hands. His fists clenched in a visible effort not to drive them into the nearby desk. "Lady Isabella of Gisborne, also known as Lady Isabella of Shrewsbury, is Prince John's protégé, if I am not misinformed."

Allan looked abashed. "How… how do you know?"

"Two months ago, I stayed at Prince John's court in London for two days. I read King Richard's proclamations about Robin's pardon there. By chance, I met Lady Isabella of Gisborne at the court, and she was rather close to Prince John, batting her eyes at him and always smiling."

"Wait! I thought that Lady Amicia de Beaumont is Prince John's mistress," Allan pointed out, confused.

"Prince John has many mistresses," Roger de Lacy said, smiling wryly. "I think Isabella of Gisborne is that mysterious Isabella whom he visited only in the company of his two courtiers and whose name he kept secret for so long."

"Oh, I see." Allan blinked. "I remember rumors about mysterious Isabella."

"Well, you see. She must be Isabella of Gisborne."

"But why did the prince keep their relationship secret?"

Roger shrugged. "I am not Prince John's mind reader, but there must be a reason."

"I don't like it. It smells bad."

"It does smell very bad," Roger retorted. "Tell me what she was doing in Nottingham."

"She arrived several days ago. Guy said that she needed Guy's protection. I know nothing else."

"Well, I don't believe in coincidences. It seems this is Prince John's another plot, possibly to kill the king. Prince John is a resourceful man; he is a snake."

Allan was appalled and frightened. "Yeah, someone is craftier than Vaisey."

"Don't be afraid. We will deal with it," de Lacy said soothingly, feeling Allan's uneasiness.

Allan shook his head. "I do hope so."

"Help me and take it. I cannot carry everything alone." Roger gave Allan one of the heavy purses with funds for their journey. Then he marched to the door, motioning Allan to move. "Let's go. I will say goodbye to my wife, and then we will depart."

Allan gulped. "Are you married?"

"Why should I not be?" Roger smirked. "Because I am too young?"

"Well, I didn't expect that."

"I married Lady Maud in the Holy Land. She was one of Queen Berengaria's ladies-in-waiting; she was given to our Queen by Princess Joanna. I married not because I wanted to lose my freedom, but because my love affair with her trapped me; I have a child, a small son," de Lacy told his story.

"I am sorry… that I asked, Roger."

"It is fine."

Roger de Lacy quickly wrote a short message for King Richard on the parchment, and then he went to the adjacent room, where he kept the cage with a Sultan-prized bird. He intended to send the bird with his message to Acre, so that the king knew that Vaisey had departed to the Holy Land.

What Roger discovered in the room made his blood run cold. Allan gasped for air as he stood rooted behind Roger. Roger's steward who stood near the cage, holding the dead bird in his right hand after he had twisted its neck. The worst happened – his steward was Prince John's spy and Roger's quickest method to contact the king was now destroyed.

The steward gaped in shock. "Sir Roger, I… I…"

Steeliness entered de Lacy's gaze. "It is a smart and careful move for Prince John's spy." He muttered a foul oath, then unsheathed his scimitar. "Well, I am going to the Holy Land in any case."

Roger de Lacy approached the trembling man and grabbed him about his shoulders. Then he swung his scimitar in a deadly arc and sliced the man's throat. De Lacy wiped the blade with the steward's tunic, and then stepped aside. Looking at the dead man with furious eyes narrowed to slits, he cursed under his breath, then sheathed his scimitar into a golden scabbard.

"Roger, you killed him," Allan breathed, his eyes taking in the steward's lifeless body.

"Traitors cannot be allowed to live," de Lacy said in a cold voice.

Allan shuddered. "Oh, Roger… I…"

"Allan, calm down – I am not going to kill you and I have nothing against you," Roger said in soothing tones. "I mean a different kind of traitors. You were an unwilling informant, while my steward betrayed me to Prince John in the situation when there is a great threat to the king's life." He quickly moved in the room, crushing furniture and making a mess out of the room. "You were unable to kill the king and you came here. And you did the right thing that you warned me."

Allan's eyes wandered to the bird. "This bird is like… Lardner."

"I know it very well."

"Does the king use them often, Roger?"

De Lacy gave Allan a hard glare. "Unnecessary curiosity is not a virtue," he gritted out as he examined the room. "I am angry. Bloody right I am angry! My steward was Prince John's spy!" He broke off with a foul curse as he opened the drawers of the desk and extracted parchments from there, throwing them on the floor. "I must have been daft if I didn't figure out it before. Now I cannot contact the king."

Allan was bewildered. "What are you doing?"

Roger took in the sight of mess in the chamber. "My steward is dead, and it is better if it looks like someone tried to rob me. I am Constable of Chester and captain of the third guard of King Richard's own forces; nothing will ever happen to me for any murder, but I prefer to use a clever tactic."

A muscle worked in Allan's jaw. "Oh, it is so… unbelievable."

"Hush, Allan. We are leaving in fifteen minutes. We must be in Dover in four days and cross the English Channel then." Roger raced down the spiral staircase at dangerous speed.

"Why in Dover?"Allan was curious. "The sheriff went to Portsmouth!"

"Does the sheriff plan to travel through the continent and then sail to Acre? Or does he take a direct route from Portsmouth to Acre on the ship?"

"He planned to cross the English Channel."

"Good news. Dover faces Flanders across the narrowest part of the Channel," de Lacy explained. "We will sail from Dover to Calais because it is the quickest way to cross the Channel. We will take inland route through Flanders, France, and Duchy of Toulouse. We will sail to Acre from Marseilles."

"Oh, how complicated…." Allan never traveled much, and he was tempted to try.

"We have to hurry. Be ready for a long and dangerous trip."

"I am ready," Allan said, following Roger step by step.

"Hurry up. We have no time," de Lacy demanded, quickening his footsteps.

"I am coming," Allan muttered breathlessly; he was barely able to catch up with de Lacy's speed.

When next his gaze met Roger's, de Lacy looked at the other man as if seeing all his secrets. "Now the situation is very serious, for I cannot warn the king about the sheriff's moves and he will be oblivious of the fact that his life is in grave danger." Then he smiled. "But we will save the king."

De Lacy almost ran down the stairs, Allan flurried after him. In the hall, they met a young lovely woman, with light blonde hair and large hazel eyes, but so tall that her height seemed to be disproportionate compared to her very slender figure; she was Lady Maude de Claire, Baroness of Pontefract. Roger kissed his wife's cheek and murmured something into her ear.

Roger kissed his wife's cheek and murmured something into her ear. Allan heard Roger say that he would be absent for many months and that he had been summoned to Normandy on the king's pressing business. Allan scoffed at the thought that Roger lied to his wife so easily, not wishing to tell his wife about the true reasons for his absence.

The servants arranged that three of the best horses in the stables were already saddled; de Lacy's squire was assumed to travel with them. They loaded two large bags with Roger's things on the squire's horse, whereas Allan carried two purses with coins and de Lacy had the leather wallet, which he attached to the girdle of his tunic. They said farewell words, mounted, and set off at full gallop, going to Dover to sail for Calais and then cross France for their journey to Acre.

§§§

Robin was up long before sunrise; he disguised himself as a rich Saracen, intending to continue conducting reconnaissance today. He left the Crusaders' Camp just as the shadowy sandy dunes around the walls of Acre awakened from its misty sleep into daylight and the sky changed from dark to rosy glow. Soon the sky brightened and reddened in the morning sun, a wedge of brilliant orange. The horizon, ever-widening and vast, lay above the expanse of the blue sea, and the treeless slopes, and the sandy dunes, surrounding Acre, all seemed to welcome the new day.

Wandering around the streets of Acre, Robin again was amazed that the city was buzzing with activity and a cacophony of voices speaking different languages. Running his eyes over the crowded streets, the coastline, and the port, Robin felt as if he were swallowed in a hive of the people, hurrying here and there within the walls of the city. The port was busy, overcrowded with ships bearing colors of countries and free cities from all over the Mediterranean Sea. Hundreds of sailors, traders, and longshoremen swarmed over the docks, loading and unloading cargo; everything was overseen by the Crusaders who controlled Acre. Cloth, wines, food, gold, silver, ivory, art treasures, and other more precious things were delivered in the city every hour.

He wasn't astounded to see so many ships in the harbor. The city of Acre was an outlet for the trade routes of the Orient and the meeting point between the East and the West. Acre possessed the only safe harbor in Palestine, and travelers preferred to land there rather than at Jaffa with its open roadstead; there had been many unfortunate accidents in Jaffa before Acre was captured by the Crusaders. The city of Acre certainly controlled the greatest trade-routes in the East, and trade ships from Venice, Genoa, Pisa, Cyprus, Marseilles, and Constantinople.

Robin spent the greater part of the next hour at the central market in Acre, near the harbor. He looked around, thinking that the market was thriving, for the place was overcrowded with merchants and local venders. Nobody knew Robin's true identity, but even a fool could tell at a glance that he was a nobleman because of his fine manner and luxurious Arabic clothes. Thus, the merchants bade him look at the best of their baubles, delicacies, silks, and perfumes and nearly everything else under the sun. Robin paid them little attention and avoided a straight eye contact, waving his head and signaling them that he would be talking to them if he found something interesting among all merchandise.

In the central market, Robin listened to the outrageous lies regarding the rarity of certain cloths or perfumes, the unmatched skills of a jeweler, a tailor, a barber, or an armourer. He found his walk in the market tiresome and hurried to leave, especially given that he was unlikely to find any trace of Vaisey's Saracen accomplices in the central market. He headed to the Genoese, the Pisan, and the Venetian quarters which were located very close to the harbor.

As he left the merchant quarter, Robin walked down the main street of Acre. The sun climbed higher and brightened the sky to a greater and greater degree; there was little oxygen left in the air. Lifting his face, he wiped the sweat from his brow, cursing the heat. In spite of having spent so many years in Outremer, Robin was still astonished that the townspeople seemed to be unaffected by the suffocating heat, and the streets and marketplaces were thronged with folk.

Robin was amazed that so many king's men considered him a key intermediary between King Richard and Saladin in achievement of peace and prosperity in the Crusader States and in the Holy Land. Robin felt his heart pounding in delight and pride that he was so loved, so admired, and so highly praised by Christian warriors. He barely repressed his laugh at the thought that the disguised Captain Locksley was among them and heard so many praises of himself.

"Robin of Locksley killed Grand Master de Sablé in a long and dangerous duel. He established an alliance with the Hashashin," one of the Knights Templar said.

"I have heard that Prince Malik, Saladin's nephew, joined this alliance," another Knight Templar added.

The first knight nodded. "It is true. Prince Malik supported the alliance between the Hashashin and King Richard. It means that the road to the peace negotiations with Saladin is free."

The oldest Knight Templar, who had just approached the group, blessed himself with the cross. "If God is willing, peace will reign in the Holy Land. Sir Robin of Locksley should bring peace in these lands."

"We need peace. This war cannot continue forever," another warrior agreed. "God bless King Richard and his chief generals who are working for peace! This war must be finished."

Robin walked to the building of pottery shop and leaned against the corner of the building. The white-bearded Saracen, the owner of the shop, muttered something unintelligible in Arabic and then scowled at the intruder, but Robin threw him a golden coin, laughing and winking at the man. The old Saracen laughed back and didn't chase Robin away. During the next few minutes, Robin simply stood on the corner, enjoying the picturesque views of the port of Acre before his eyes and watching the people as they went about their lives.

Casting a quick glance at the old white-bearded owner of the shop but not lingering it at the old man, Robin turned his head and advanced forward. His head high, his spine straight, he walked down the main street of cobblestones, surrounded by a row of shops that sold clay figurines and ampoules for holy water, which were popular souvenirs for pilgrims. He turned around the corner and headed to the old part of the city, where the port and fort were located.

Robin stopped at the corner of the building, looking across the narrow, rocky street. There was a flower shop, where each shelf was loaded with various flowers, from violets of unusual shades of violet, blue, and white to cooper-colored, red, and white roses. At the same time, a serving girl was carrying baskets of flowers to the shop, and another one was passing by them. All of them were not Saracens, but rather Greek or Cypriots; there were many merchants of various nationalities in Acre.

Robin watched a small, scrawny man grab the baskets from the arms of the girls. "You should be more careful with the flowers, you tawpies," he bellowed.

Robin knew Greek and understood their conversation. He realized that the small man was the owner of the flower shop, for he scolded his assistants for being so clumsy and not careful with the rare flowers which had undoubtedly been raised somewhere else and then brought to Acre.

"These flowers are fresh and beautiful. Nothing will happen to them," one of the girls retorted, trying to show as little annoyance as possible.

"Be very careful with these flowers!" the old man bellowed. "We should deliver these flowers to the Citadel of Acre tomorrow. Monsieur Henry de Champagne will be displeased if you damage them."

One of the girls smiled dreamily. "Ah, Sir Robin of Locksley is going to have a great wedding! I have heard that Captain Locksley is a breathtaking man! I would want to be in his fiancée's shoes!"

The second girls giggled. "This wedding is a sensational event in Outremer. I want to be at the wedding, but I am sure that the king's guards won't allow the populace to attend."

"And even to come close to the bride and the bridegroom," another girl said.

"Shut up your mouths, you idlers! I will fire you if you don't work well!" the shop owner threatened.

Robin laughed a deep laugh, for it was both strange and funny to hear about his own wedding from someone else in the city. The shop owner and his assistants knit their brows in confusion, staring at the unknown Saracen. Robin didn't give them a chance to start any conversation; without so much as a second glance, he turned around and started walking down the street. He couldn't have stayed and talked to those people, for he was on the mission; but at least now he knew what preparations were made for his wedding by King Richard and Count Henry de Champagne.

Robin thought that he had already wandered in the old part of Acre for more than two hours. He stopped at the crossroads between two streets. Looking around and contemplating his surroundings, he was seized by the desire to go to the gardens of one of rich Arabian houses and, if possible, to talk to the natives, to see them as they are and once again assure himself that they were nothing more than usual people, not demons that Christians had to kill in order to re-conquer the Holy Land. Yet, he couldn't do that, for he had another mission and couldn't blow away his disguise.

Robin paused on the wide street, bordered by Arabian buildings peeping out of green and white orchards, stretched in a straight line to the base of the ascent which led up to the suburbs of Acre, where he had seen Nasir and Karim last time. Praying that he would be able to come across Vaisey's accomplices again, he climbed the hill, nodding at the Muslims and avoiding a lingering eye contact.

He made the way to the place where he had met Nasir and Karim last time, and then he wandered around for at least several hours. He continued searching for any trace of those two Saracens until he saw a glimpse of red sunset toward the west, which started the train of thought that it was Carter's turn to patrol the area and try to find something while he had to return back to the camp.

After changing his clothes in the secret building of the king's men in the Genoese quarter, Robin met there with Carter who would continue reconnaissance in the area under the cover of darkness. By the time they returned to the camp, the sun had already sunk behind the horizon. Robin stood near the entrance to the royal tent, waiting for to be invited for an audience with his liege.

In the next moment, King Richard swept out of the tent and paused for instant moment, his expression relieved that his favorite had returned from reconnaissance unharmed. Even in the darkness, the king looked like a powerful warrior who instilled both fascination and terror in the hearts of his enemies and led his men to great victories on the battlefields of Outremer and the Angevin Empire.

"My liege," Robin greeted the king, bowing deeply to him.

The king eyed Robin. "Do you have any news today?"

Robin looked down for a moment, as if he were gathering his strength, before lifting his gaze to Richard. "Unfortunately we still have no news, sire."

Stiffening, Richard frowned. "Let's go inside."

As they entered the royal tent, Richard gestured Robin to sit down onto multicolored silk pillows. As Robin seated himself on the pillows, the king didn't do the same; he called, and ten of his most trusted guards, headed by Roger de Tosny, entered the tent. With an impassive face, Richard motioned Robin to remain seated; the lion stared at de Tosny and issued an order to go over the area where Robin, Robert, and Carter had stumbled into Nasir and Karim with a fine-tooth comb.

With a grunt, the king finally seated himself onto the pile of pillows in front of Robin. In the feeble light of one flickering torch in the tent, Richard watched Robin's features and his slightly shaking hands, as if he were weak in the grip of a grief that he had never known before. The king met Robin's eyes and found them dark and clear. Robin also couldn't hide the exhaustion on his face; the beads of grimy sweat that rolled down his slightly tanned skin.

"So you found nothing today, Robin," the king said with confidence.

"The reconnaissance again didn't give any results. We have no new information about Nasir and Karim so far," Robin confirmed. "Maybe Carter will find something tonight."

"And you are saddened by the results?"

Robin was very worried. The uncertainty was unnerving him, especially the absence of any news from King Richard's spies in the Angevin Empire and from Roger de Lacy. The current moment was like lull before the storm, and Robin feared what the storm would bring.

"I wish we have already found Karim or Nasir or both of them." Robin sighed, his heart thundering in his chest. "Our spies told us that there are more than fifteen Karims and not even one Nasir in the area where we discovered those two men on that night." He made a helpless gesture. "We even didn't see their faces, and their voices were muffled due to the distance."

"And there is the spy in our entourage," Richard said thoughtfully.

"And this traitor is someone very close to you, milord."

"Undoubtedly."

Robin sighed. "Last week, I set four traps for this spy, but neither of them worked."

"It means that this man is very close to us. He is also very clever if he can avoid our traps."

Anger clouded the Robin's features; he clenched his fists. "This man is a wretched traitor bought by the Black Knights. I want to kill him myself, with my bare hands – to kill him for you, milord."

The king gave his captain a loving smile; he had always been impressed by Robin's unconditional loyalty. "Calm down, Robin. We will find this traitor, and then he will be punished."

"God help us! We must find him!"

"Even if our new secret reconnaissance gives us nothing, we know that now neither Sheriff Vaisey nor Guy of Gisborne is in Acre," the king speculated, furrowing his brows. "We don't know much about Vaisey's Muslim accomplices, but we know that they definitely appear in Acre from time to time, even if we suppose that we are mistaken and they don't have a secret hideout in Acre."

"Sire, please permit me to start searching for Nasir and Karim in nearby villages," Robin ventured casually without taking his eyes off Richard's face.

"Roger de Tosny will deal with that," Richard said authoritatively.

"But, sire, please permit me–"

Shaking his head, Richard smiled at his captain. "No, Robin. I need you always by my side." He smiled warmly at the younger man, and Robin found himself returning the gesture. "Besides, the date of your wedding is approaching, and you have many other things to do."

"Yes." Robin lowered his eyes, a little embarrassed by the reference to his wedding. "But whatever I have to do, my private interests are always secondary to the wellbeing of my king and country."

Surveying Robin for a moment, the lion laughed heartily. "This is my Robin I love and admire."

The praise fueled Robin's vain nature. "Thank you, milord."

The lion smiled wryly. "But why are you embarrassed when I mention your wedding to my cousin, my dear Earl of Huntingdon?" He narrowed his eyes, which mirrored a sly fox. "Are you so much unwilling to marry Melisende? Or does the beauty of my cousin deprive you, my brave captain, of your breath?"

The wicked gleam flickered in Robin's eyes, which the king didn't miss. "Beauty is power that charms lovers and fiancés, but terrifies a husband." He grinned widely. "I wonder what your cousin's beauty will do to me after the wedding ceremony. But if I am not so charmed, I will be able to breathe easier."

Richard laughed; then he stood up. "Always witty, Robin."

Robin also got to his feet. "Well, I don't really think of myself as inflexible and predictable."

"It is certainly not your case, Robin." The king mocked a sigh. "Now we should get ready and go to Acre before you charm me so much that I cannot breathe and you will have to fetch a doctor for me."

On that evening, Count Henry de Champagne welcomed eagerly King Richard and Robin at the dinner party, which the king ordered to give in honor of Robin's upcoming marriage; it was a normal thing to assure a short proper courtship of Melisende by Robin. The guests were anxious to hear about the courtship and the marriage of the king's cousin to Robin of Locksley, the Earl of Huntingdon.

After the dinner, Melisende and Robin remained alone in the study room, while the king and Count de Champagne played in a game of cards. As they stood near the window overlooking the coastline, they stared at each other as if they were mesmerized. Robin granted his bride a sincere, charming smile, and she also smiled at him with her mysterious, enchaining, and a little distant smile.

Robin's marriage became a sensational event in Outremer. King Richard proclaimed that the wedding day would be unique and unforgettable. The wedding ceremony didn't promise to be similar to the same kind of affairs in the Angevin Empire at least because it would take place in Acre, in the surrounding of the desert, lovely beaches, and the sea. The ceremony was planned to be a grand event, but yet much more original than marriages of the other members of the Plantagenet royal house.

"Trust me, Robin, that we will produce a great pageantry for your wedding," King Richard assured Robin. "I will not tolerate any protests and objections from you, my friend."

Robin asked the King of England to make his wedding a private affair in a small chapel in one of the central districts of Acre, but Richard shook his head in disagreement and said that they would be walking in a stately procession up the aisle of the most important cathedral in Acre, with loud music and incense soaring to the dim vastness of the roof. Robin agreed with the king, understanding that his pleas to do otherwise would be rejected even if he sank to his knees and begged Richard.

And yet, Melisende's relationship with Robin was somewhat extraordinary. They teased and mocked each other, and he shot at her many witty barbs, mainly mocking and at times cruelly mocking, and she fired back at him. They laughed together because Robin's laughter was infectious, and her melodic laughter was contagious as well. They talked about court of love, the art of troubadours, romantic poetry, literature, wars, politics, and dreams. They even talked about the stars and invisible worlds that existed in parallel to their life, and they both were astonished that they touched such topics. They both felt comfortable together, and they were brutally honest with each other.

Melisende was accustomed to official courtship, which she had in abundance during her two previous betrothals. Her previous encounters with men had all ended with her rejection as she shot at them poisonous witty barbs that made them run away from her to another shire or county. Few people matched her extraordinary sense of wit; only the Earl of Huntingdon and the Earl of Leicester managed to come close enough to pierce her defenses.

Shaking his head, Robin tore his gaze from Melisende, and then he headed to the chest of drawers. He opened one of the drawers and extracted something wrapped in a large piece of the finest velvet. He headed to Melisende, stopped near her, and made a small, mocking bow to her, smiling at her wryly. Then he handed the wrapped object to her.

Melisende looked at him in amazement. "What is that, Robin?"

Robin laughed. "Open and have a look."

She unfolded the object. There was a magnificent jewelry set inside. It was an oval-cut amethysts and diamonds jewelry set, consisting of a stunning necklace with ten medium-sized amethysts and six diamonds, a pair of elegant earrings with two small amethysts, and an exquisite ring of a cluster type featuring a single oval-cut amethyst in the centre surrounded by two rows of glittering diamonds.

She looked impressed. "What is it, Robin?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you like it, Melisende?"

She smiled with a dazzling smile. "It is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen, Robin."

His eyes blazed at her. "I am glad to hear that you like it."

"Where did you find it?" Her fingers were touching the necklace.

"It was made by Queen Eleanor's royal jeweler. It was delivered yesterday," Robin said, grinning. "On the day I proposed to you three months ago, I asked King Richard whether it was possible to make something beautiful for you. Richard agreed and sent one of our special... birds with a message to Aquitaine. The Queen Mother chose the jewelry set for you and sent her messenger to Acre."

"And today you received it?" She wasn't amazed, for she knew that Richard and Eleanor regularly exchanged messengers through Sultan's prized pigeons, which were also used by the king's spies.

"Yes. I wanted the jewelry set of amethysts and diamonds; I hope you like it."

With a blush, she jerked her gaze from his. "Thank you, Robin."

Melisende continued looking at the necklace until she felt that Robin stood near her. Smiling at her with a mischievous smile, Robin took the jewelry set from her arms and put it on a nearby table. She didn't utter a word while he walked away and then strode towards her with the same smile on his face.

And then Robin kissed her like a lover, hot and deep, his hands sliding down her back and pressing her against his body. He didn't relent until he had reduced her to a boneless mass of passion.

As he broke the kiss, Robin stared down at her, his eyes gleaming. "It seems you were right, Melisende." He chuckled. "I am capable of doing everything, almost everything, even most indecent things." He winked at her. "You should remember that I am not the people's hero and the king's man – for you I am simply Robin."

Then Robin made a deep and mocking bow to her and left the study room.

Melisende stood, feeling dizziness for a moment before it passed. Her body was trembling with unfulfilled need. He kissed beyond well. He could make a woman sacrifice her name and her reputation and everything to feel his hot mouth to hers and feel his touch upon her skin. God help her, Melisende wanted Robin of Locksley as much as she had never wanted any other man. She did want the mischievous devil in her bed, and she knew that she wanted him as desperately as he wanted her. She wanted him to love her. And then her throat tightened as she realized what she wanted him and only him. She was happy that she was marrying Robin of all the men who served the king.

As Robin walked down the corridor, his mind drifted back to his beautiful bride. He couldn't deny that the more time he spent with Melisende in Acre, the more attracted to her he was. He wasn't happy that he was supposed to marry Melisende, but he also couldn't say that he objected to his upcoming marriage. Certainly, he had no reasons to complain on the king's choice of a bride for him. He also hoped that his marriage to Melisende would help him forget Marian; he took an oath to forget her.

Melisende was breathtakingly beautiful, with an air of regalness, charm, grace, enigma, and fatality about her. The manner in which she carried herself and wore her clothes could only be described as regal and elegant. Greatly fascinated with her beauty, Robin enjoyed looking at her, impressed by the perfect contours of her beautiful face, her flawless alabaster skin, her large and expressive violet eyes with the entrancing, wicked gleam, and the lines of her well-curved body. He often caught himself on the thought that he wanted her, a normal thing for a healthy man with passions and desires.

Melisende was so intelligent, so clever, and so broad-minded, her intelligence matching that of very few other women and better than that of many men. She was similar to Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine: she was a strong-willed, spirited lady, born for greatness – to rule and to control. Robin adored her mode of thoughts and her mentality; they truly shared many interests, habits, and avocations.

Melisende knew seven languages, including her native Norman-French, English, Greek, German, Latin, Occitan, and Italian. Like King Richard himself, Melisende could sing troubadours' songs or read love poems in Occitan and possessed deep knowledge in literature and philosophy. Melisende was more educated than Marian, who also knew several languages and was uncommonly educated woman.

Like Melisende, Robin was a very well-educated man. He had never been a scholar and didn't like studying, preferring physical activities and games over everything else. He spent his days being involved in wild games with peasant children, hunting, practicing swordplay and horsemanship, as well as improving his outstanding archery skills. Yet, if he had been interested in something, he could have spent hours sitting before the fireplace and reading a book; he read mostly military texts – accounts of battles, writings of famous generals, books of strategy, and he was very interested in Aquitanian culture, art, and music of troubadours. Robin was very good at studying languages and liked that very much; he had known six languages – English, Norman-French, Latin, French, Arabic, and Occitan.

Melisende was a great lady, but she was not Marian; they were so different. Robin still felt passion for Marian as he remembered her during his lonely nights, and he was sure that if he saw her again, the passion would flare up between them. He loved Marian single-mindedly until she married Gisborne and broke his heart into many small pieces, and that betrayal brought hatred and disappointment into his heart, the feelings he had never thought he would ever have for his former betrothed. He secretly hoped that disappointment would kill his love for Marian and he would be able to move on.

§§§

Little John was slowly making his way through the streets of Acre, in the southern part of the city, where Bassam, known as the bird's man, lived. Robin allowed him to have a free evening tonight, and John immediately decided in favor of going to Will and Djaq. He came to the house several hours before evening prayers, so that he could have some time with his friends.

John found Will and Djaq in two richly furnished halls, everything in the Muslim style. John hugged Djaq, and she invited him to seat down on large cushions near a little carved Arabic table, which, with a number of chairs. It was a charming place with a view from the window extending out to the sea beyond, illumined faintly in the light of the sun. It was an ideal spot for the exchange of pleasantries and all the kinds of private conversations, in which the surroundings may be conducive to leading people on to say more than they mean.

One of the servants, a young Saracen girl Konnie, served them an excellent meal. There was an orgy of food at the table: various soups and stews prepared with rice and Arabic spices, potatoes, peas, carrots, extremely tender kebab, Djaq's favorite mansaf and Ackawi cheese. There were several kinds of dishes garnished with cooked pine nuts and almonds. John found the food much better than hot oatmeal porridge, stew and venison, which were usual meal of the Crusaders.

"We haven't seen Robin for so many months. How is he doing?" Djaq asked.

John put a large piece of bread into his mouth. "Robin is doing fine. He has done a great job for King Richard and England. If you have heard, we traveled to Masyaf and established an alliance with the Hashashin. We are going to set up the peace negotiations with Saladin."

She smiled lazily. "It is a great achievement. May God help Robin to bring peace to the Holy Land."

"Everyone praises Robin that he killed Robert de Sablé, Grand Master of the Knights Templar," Will continued discussing the topic.

John drank hot spiced wine with enjoyment. "Grand Master de Sablé was a traitor. He planned to hire the Hashashin to kill King Richard. He was Prince John's ally."

"I have heard that Robin's fight with Grand Master de Sablé was very violent," Djaq spoke, her tone oddly formal. "I am happy that Robin exposed this vile man as a traitor and then killed him in an honorable combat."

"The fight was long, difficult, and bloody… And Robin… he… was not himself in the end." John trailed off, the image of the headless body flashing in his head, cold shiver running down his spine.

Will shook his head. "Something like Robin Hood in the woods when he almost killed Gisborne after having him beaten and tied to the tree?"

John eyed them apprehensively. "Yes. Robin said goodbye to de Sablé by beheading him."

Will nodded solemnly. "Quite predictable from Robin if he is in rage. Robin loathes and hates all traitors to King Richard and England."

"He is a hothead and a rebel in his blood, by nature," John opined as he nibbled mansaf, enjoying its softness and good taste. "When Robin has to face treason committed by King Richard's formerly loyal subjects, he may turn berserk with anger."

"Come on, de Sablé deserved a bloody death," Djaq underscored.

Will gazed at her worriedly. "Djaq, what do you have against Robert de Sablé?"

Djaq swallowed hard, her face flushing as she recalled vividly those desperate moments. "Three Knights Templar killed my brother and father. Those men were very close to de Sablé." She loved her brother so much that she took his name in his honor and used it in her new life in England.

"This vile man will never lay hands on you. He is dead now," Will growled with fierce determination. He tenderly touched her cheek and looked into her eyes, his gaze compassionate and kind.

John snorted, shaking his head in amazement at the coincidence. "Well, this man deserved to be killed by exactly Robin, for King Richard and for you, Djaq."

"Another traitor to King Richard," Will commented.

"We are in the Holy Land, but we are still saving England by saving King Richard," Little John declared passionately. "Even after de Sablé's death and the massacre in the camp, the sheriff is still plotting to kill the king. They are already dividing England between themselves. And we must stop them."

Will's eyes widened at the thought how much John had been affected by the Lionheart. Djaq only smiled, knowing quite well how easily people got under the lion's charismatic spell.

"I agree we must stop the Black Knights," Will retorted. "Count me in, even though I won't fight among the king's soldiers."

"I am in, too," Djaq said quietly.

"The gossip is that Robin is marrying very soon," Will jumped to another theme.

"It is true. Robin is marrying King Richard's cousin in a week," Djaq informed.

"How is Robin's relationship with the king's cousin progressing?" Will asked.

John took a goblet of wine and emptied it. "I see that Robin feels a kind of attachment to Lady Melisende. This lady is very beautiful."

"Well, it is good news." Djaq flashed a warm smile, feeling relief washing over her; she was worried for Robin's mental state, and if he could find consolation in his new marriage, she was happy for him.

"Oh, I forgot to say something," John said as he rubbed his cheek. "Robin asked me to pass to you an invitation to the wedding feast."

"Robin wants us to seat at the same table with other Crusaders?" Will inquired in disbelief. "He knows very well that Djaq and I don't share his devotion to King Richard."

"I don't mind going," Djaq said suddenly.

"Are you sure?" Will was genuinely surprised.

Djaq shook her head slightly and smiled. "Yes, I am. This is Robin's wedding after all."

John sat silent for a while, staring into the deep purple wine steaming in his goblet. He seemed so abstracted that his friends were impelled to prompt him to speak. "Now I understand why Robin is loyal to our king. The king loves Robin so much; they are close friends."

"I said once that Robin's loyalty to the Lionheart is a political matter and a personal one too," Djaq said.

"You were right," John said after a short pause. "I changed my attitude to King Richard."

Will took a goblet of wine and made a small sip. "Why?"

"I can't say exactly how it happened," John theorized. "King Richard's ability to reward loyalty and his charisma impressed me, and he inspires all of his men. The king may be a very cruel man, but he is also an amicable person who cares about his own soldiers."

"John, I believe you could have been impressed by the Lionheart, for he is certainly a charismatic man," Djaq said with more than a hint of understanding. "But there is more to this man when he usually shows to his people. He is very cunning and deceitful if he needs or wants to win a big game and destroy someone."

"The king can be very cruel," John said in a barely audible voice. "But he loves Robin so much."

Will blinked, confused. "Djaq, why do you want to see the king at Robin's wedding?"

"Because Robin would want us to attend," Djaq answered. "For Robin."

During the next hour, they were sitting at the table, playing chess when Bassam came inside the room, his face curious. Little John stiffened because Bassam was the last person whom he wanted to see just then; he still remembered how the man met them on the day of their arrival in Acre. In spite of the white turban and his white robes, which swathed his proud head, Bassam looked a sinister figure in his white Arabic caftan, unadorned save for a broad dagger thrust through the silken sash.

Bassam eyed Little John from top to toe, his eyes glittering darkly at the sight of a red Crusader cross on John's white tunic. He greeted him without exaggerated courtliness and said that he didn't intend to bother them for long. He explained that he just needed to take away some books from the chest of drawers. He took a book in his hands and opened it, pretending to read it and tried to frown as if he were pondering the contents; in reality, he observed Little John out of the corner of his eye.

"You have to excuse me, John, but I can barely tolerate even the sight of any Crusader," Bassam said quietly, as if he unconsciously believed that the two other people in the room could understand.

Unexpectedly, Little John seemed more abashed than angered by Bassam's manner of speech.

Djaq gave a nod. "You don't need to explain, uncle."

Bassam sighed. A painful look crossed his dark face and disappeared as quickly as it came, to be replaced by a scowl. "I have to explain as this man is not guilty of my feelings." His gaze flew to John. "I have nothing against you and your friends. This is about what King Richard did here."

John gave Bassam a sympathetic gaze. "I understand you. The Crusaders committed many atrocities."

"Saffiya's twin brother and her father were killed by the Crusaders. They killed so many people," Bassam snapped angrily. "I hate King Richard the Lionheart because I have seen what he did here. He killed many men, but not only warriors; he killed women and children in the raids his men did on our villagers and in the massacre of Acre." He drew a deep breath. "And I witnessed, from a distance, the bloody massacre of three thousand prisoners at Melek-Ric's order. I have loathed everything about the Crusaders since the moment when I learnt about my elder brother's death. Most of all I loathe Melek-Ric. Any reminder of the barbaric king may send me into the worst of tempers."

"I witnessed the massacre, too." Djaq felt tears gathering at the corners of her eyes, making them shimmer in the bright sunlight. "It was one of the most gruesome experiences I have ever had."

"The Lionheart's heart is as cold as the desert in the night. He is a murderer," Bassam spat.

"King Richard can be very affectionate. My captain is the king's devoted friend, and I have seen our king very far from high and mighty when he is with Robin," John intervened.

Unexpectedly, Little John was more and more impressed with King Richard day by day, for the lion was a rare and unbelievable amalgamation of generosity, justice, charisma, cruelty, cunning, and roughness. The king's sheer confidence and regal ability magnified John. Yet, the former outlaw was at loss how so many people gave cheers to the king and didn't find it strange that the English monarch who, despite having spent much of his boyhood in England, didn't like the country and spoke the language of the people he now ruled with a heavy accent. John found it uncomfortable and irritating that Robin and other guards preferred to speak in Norman-French for the sake of the king; he barely understood French and even didn't like it.

"Melek-Ric is generous only to those whom he loves and keeps close to himself. He doesn't care for many others," Bassam contradicted.

"The king cares for his soldiers. He can be very magnanimous," John shot back. "I myself have seen such cases. I hope you don't doubt my words?"

"I don't," Bassam said reluctantly.

Bassam was a clear-sighted and well-educated man, schooled from a very young age by the best teachers. For many years, he had served as the envoy of one of Saladin's emirs in Acre, while Djaq's father was Saladin's personal physician. For a long time, Bassam had struggled with himself for a while to accept that Djaq felt such strong emotional attachment to her English friends and that she had fallen in love with the Englishman. His young niece, who was almost a daughter to him, had returned to him in Acre, but she was so different from the girl who had left the Holy Land several years ago.

Djaq's tale about her life in slavery boiled Bassam's blood. He was even angry that Djaq had stayed in Sherwood after she had been freed by Robin; he couldn't imagine that his niece had put her health and even her life in the hands of probably bloodthirsty foreigners. He made no attempt to hide his dislike of Djaq's friends at first. Yet, Djaq had told him so many good things about Robin Hood that Bassam had grown to admire Robin's bravery and honesty. He was grateful to Robin for saving Djaq and bringing her unharmed to Acre. Also, he had been secretly impressed with Robin of Locksley's legendary reputation in the Holy Land a long time ago. So he was rather amazed how little he had actually known about the brave Captain Locksley, apart from Robin's well-known humanity and magnanimity.

Many people said that Robin of Locksley was a nobleman of an especially high repute and that he was a close friend of King Richard and his protégé, a brilliant warrior who was passionately, if not madly, devoted to Richard. On the back of Robin's relationship with Richard, Bassam had tried to dismiss the fame about Robin's humanity, but he failed to do that in the light of Djaq's tales, her deep admiration for Robin and her respect to the bold captain, as well as Robin's role in Djaq's salvation from slavery. He didn't say that he had rejoiced in the recent news about Robin's fight with Grand Master de Sablé at Robin's hand, the very man whose people had killed his brother and nephew.

Looking at Little John, Bassam could easily guess that John was not a typical bloodthirsty warrior even without Djaq's tales about her life in Sherwood; additionally, Djaq had once confirmed his thoughts.

And there also was Will, the love of Djaq's life whom she wanted to marry. Bassam had never imagined that his niece would ever have a desire to bond herself to an Englishman. Yet, the more he watched Djaq's relationship with Will and heard about the outlaws of Sherwood, the more convinced he was that he had probably misjudged them. In the end, he started feeling unconformable and blamed himself that he hadn't greeted Djaq's friends properly on the day of their arrival in Acre.

Bassam's face was dark. "Saffiya, I hated all Christians when I learnt that they had captured you and shackled you and made you their slave. I didn't know where they took you, and I thought that they killed you in the end. It made me loathe the Crusaders and the Lionheart even more." He seemed about to explode in mirth, frowning and scowling fiercely.

Bassam went on talking about the Crusaders and the evil Christians had caused to their family, whereas Djaq sat quietly staring at her folded hands on her lap and fighting off a rising tide to weep. From time to time, she glanced up to find Bassam eyeing her expectantly, to meet John's understanding look, but she didn't wish to look at them. Instead, she wanted to look only at Will, who was growing irritated with Bassam's talk about the past because he saw that it depressed Djaq.

"Saladin killed Christians, didn't he?" Little John questioned cautiously.

"Yes, he did," Bassam agreed.

Bassam had nothing to say in response. He fell silent, glaring at John with a heated gaze. John's gaze was calm; he guessed whether the man would actually swing like a crazed mad man at him. Bassam now turned angry at last, muttering something in Arabic under his breath; he let his gaze freely wander across the chamber, his eyes sparkling and his cheeks on fire.

Djaq blinked back the tears that were sparkling in her eyes. "Let's change the subject."

"Djaq, how can I help you? Please don't be so sad!" Will ran his hand across her cheek with his fingertips, a small gesture of his affection for her.

"I am fine, Will." She brushed away oozing tears, masking her sudden weakness with the memories with an assumed boldness; yet, her chin was tilted defiantly.

Bassam swept his eyes over his guests. "I am sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. Now I will leave you to your amusement."

"Most definitely, you didn't harm us, uncle," Djaq said soothingly.

Bassam looked at his niece, his eyes softening with unshed tears. "Forgive me, my dear Saffiya, if I displeased you. I am an old man who didn't think when he spoke."

Bassam's face resumed its earlier sternness; he bowed to the guests and headed to the exit. The door slammed dully behind him. Everyone sighed heavily, listening to the fast-fading footsteps of the man whom Djaq loved with all her heart and Little John and Will deeply sympathized with.

John looked at the closed door where Bassam had left. "Did Bassam accept your relations?"

Djaq smiled heartily, feeling Will's hand squeezing hers. "Yes, he did. He likes Will."

"What did you say to make him change his mind in several months?" John wondered.

"Oh, I did nothing really serious," Djaq replied casually, as if they were discussing a mere trifle. "My uncle only understood that I love Will and he loves me."

Will shrugged eloquently. "I was amazed that Bassam accepted me."

Djaq smiled fondly at Will and patted his cheek. "But he likes you, my beloved."

"I am happy for you," Little John retorted.

Will embraced Djaq with true warmth. Feeling his arms around her, Djaq felt calmness as though Gods had heard her and unburdened her tormented soul. She loved Will dearly, for his inexhaustible goodness, for his sincere affection for her, and for his ever-watchful care of her. Will pressed her to himself closely, murmuring endearments into her ear, and she clung to him with urgent need. Little John smiled at the couple with almost a fatherly smile, delighted with their blissful happiness.

§§§

The grand wedding of Sir Robert James Fitzooth of Locksley, the Earl of Huntingdon, and Lady Melisende Adelaide Plantagenet, Countess de Bordeaux, took place in the Cathedral of the Holy Cross, the largest Crusader Church in Acre. In the warm, amber glow of the light from hundreds blazing candles, the bride and the bridegroom knelt at the altar, their hands linked under a purple silk bridal canopy. Flickering flames set the nave aglow, along with Robin and Melisende's faces. Everyone was quiet, listening to the Mass and the songs spoken and sung in Latin and Norman-French.

Robin felt as if he were somewhere else during the wedding ceremony, out of his own body. It was difficult to believe that it was his wedding, though he was well aware of King Richard and the Earl of Leicester standing near them as their witnesses.

Robin watched his bride from the corner of his eye, periodically casting short glances at his surroundings – the high white and gold ceiling with its hexagonal mouldings, the heavily gilded furniture and, last of all, the great canvases depicting the imposing figures of Christ and Virgin Mary, all of which strengthened the sensation of unreality in his heart.

King Richard the Lionheart, the legendary _Coeur de Lion_, smiled benevolently at Robin. To mark the occasion, the King of England wasn't dressed in his usual Crusader attire, looking majestic in his purple tunic and trousers of matching color, a golden jeweled crown adorning his red-gold head. The lion's face was regal and unemotional, but there was a small smile curving in the corners of his lips which betrayed his satisfaction and good spirits on the day of his grand favorite's wedding. He smiled warmly every time when his gaze fell at Robin or Melisende. Taking an example from Richard, his chief generals didn't wear Crusader tunics tonight, but everyone was armed.

Robin let his eyes dwell appreciatively on Melisende's lovely face, his gaze wandering over the long, graceful throat and the proud curves revealed by the low-cut bodice of silk and lace. Melisende looked regal and very beautiful. Her wedding attire was quite unusual: she wore a magnificent gown of heavy, silver-violet brocade, stiff with gold embroidery, with low square-cut neckline and with long taffeta train. The collar and the cuffs of sleeves were faced with a massive row of light blue Venetian lace. The color of her gown perfectly matched her violet eyes and enhanced her well-developed curves.

Melisende's jewelry was exclusive and exquisite. The sapphire and pearl bracelets of almost barbaric splendor adorned her neck and arms, a sparkling large oval cut sapphire necklace adorned – her bosom. Beneath the crown of cooper-colored roses and violets on Melisende's head, the color of her hair was deeply red-gold, almost red, and it shone like copper in the bright sunlight. Her long hair was partly piled up into a heavy chignon to support the crown of flowers and emphatically framed her alabaster face. The color of her hair immediately betrayed her blood relationship with the King of England, for the red-gold hair was the distinguishing feature of the Lionheart and many Plantagenets.

Robin closed his eyes for a second in order to regain his composure, and then opened them at the altar. Robin still loved Marian, he didn't forget her, but he began to think that fate gave him _a great chance to find peace in a marriage to another woman_ who understood his utter loyalty to King Richard and England. But he had to admit that Marian somehow seemed distant and his passion for her cooled off due to her betrayal and his deep interest in Melisende.

Melisende Plantagenet also observed her future husband, thinking that Robin of Locksley, at twenty six, was a magnificent man. Dressed in an azure doublet with standing lace collar, gold embroidered lions on his chest, and trousers of the same color, each piece trimmed with exquisite jewelry, Robin looked roguishly handsome and devilishly charming, with a languid, aristocratic grace and a devil-may-care attitude mingled in the same man. His stubborn light brown brows and the powerful chin counteracted the boyish handsomeness stressed by his impishly cut, sandy-colored hair and his roguish stubble. His facial features, unlike those of many nobles, were not fixed in an expression of perpetual boredom but rather in that of detachment and blankness, if he was serious, transforming into a cheeky grin of a rogue if his mischievous nature prevailed.

Robin set the ring on his bride's finger and then spoke his marriage vows, his voice steady and fast. The ring was an exquisite piece of jewelry – a beautiful golden ring with a large amethyst in the center, which was surrounded by ten small shimmering diamonds. Then Melisende slipped on Robin's finger a similar ring. Robin chose these rings to match the color of her violet eyes.

Robin looked at Melisende as she spoke her vows, and imagined that she was Marian, but Marian's face quickly faded away. The priest raised his hand in blessing and then uttered standard ritual words, all heads were bowed. The priest lapsed into silence, and everyone stared at the bride and bridegroom.

_Robin suddenly realized that he was married to Lady Melisende Plantagenet, Countess de Bordeaux, but not to Lady Marian Fitzwalter of Knighton_. He was joined in holy matrimony with the king's cousin, and his future descendants would have royal blood in their veins, which was a dream of many nobles. He was not only the Earl of Huntingdon now, but also Count de Bordeaux through his marriage to Melisende; he was one of the most high-ranking nobles in the Angevin Empire at that stage, though he didn't particularly care about his social standing.

Somehow the enlightening thought of his marital status seemed to have moored on the dull shores of reality, and Robin bent his head down, kissing Melisende in her lips, with a short and gentle kiss, his eyes glowing with tenderness and lust, and her eyes twinkling in light amusement.

Melisende gazed up at Robin wonderingly. "Forever," she said softly. "Until death do us part."

Robin smiled faintly. "Until death do us part," he repeated, dropping a reference to forever.

Robin looked at King Richard who smiled encouragingly at him, as though inviting a large share his happiness with the union. Robin smiled widely at the king and then looked at his new wife. Robin's friends also hurried to congratulate their friend, wishing him all the best.

King Richard enfolded Robin into a warm, affectionate embrace. The lion held his captain in the circle of his arms more than it was appropriate. "Robin, take care of our cousin," he said hortatively.

"With my life," Robin replied truthfully.

The king hugged Melisende and she threw headlong herself into Richard's arms. "I love you, too, Melisende. You have always been my weakness, you and Johanna. I have always loved you most of all in our family." He held her tightly to himself. "I hope you are pleased."

Melisende sighed into his chest. "I hope everything will be… alright."

Everyone congratulated the newly wedded couple.

The May morning was hot and sunny, and the air smelled pleasantly of fresh flowers in the guardians near the Cathedral. The wedding party emerged from the Cathedral, and the Crusaders stared back at Lady Melisende Plantagenet, squint-eyed with envy and unhidden lust in their gazes, for they didn't have the pleasure of seeing such a beautiful woman for so long. She was a goddess in the midst of all those battled-hardened Crusaders, yet splendidly appareled men in the honor of the ceremony.

They rode through the streets of Acre towards the Citadel of Acre located in the southern district of the city. The roads to the Citadel were lined with hundreds of the Crusaders because the wedding of Captain Locksley and the king's cousin had become the most popular event in Acre. It was a holiday crowd, dressed in its smartest clothes and rippling with excitement and curiosity. The king's guards and the Knights Templar thronged the gardens, crowded streets, and dabbled their hands in fountains. The streets near the Citadel of Acre were so crowded that it seemed as if the entire populace of Acre had come to King Richard's residence.

King Richard, Robin, and Melisende were seated in a magnificent carriage, Melisende between the king and Robin. The king waved out the crowds who cheered Richard and the newly wedded couple; Robin and Melisende were quiet and regal, watching the people. Robin liked the grandeur of their party, and for an instant he forgot all his troubles, that he had married not Marian of Knighton, but Melisende Plantagenet; but it was only for a second, for when the carriage stopped in front of the entrance to the citadel, reality once again came crashing down upon him.

The Citadel of Acre was the part of the city's defensive formation, reinforcing the northern wall. It was a huge fortress, the main residence of King Richard within the walls of Acre during the Third Crusade. The building was secured by huge walls and operated similar to a small town within itself. It contained the quarters of Henry of Jerusalem, Count de Champagne, and Lady Isabella of Jerusalem, who in fact governed the area whilst Richard was absent fighting the Saracens.

Richard took Melisende's hand and kissed it briefly; he nodded at Robin, signaling to take his wife's hand. Forcing a bright smile, Robin took Melisende's hand and their eyes locked. Robin stared at his young wife for long enough for her to see the glimpse of incredibility and fear in his eyes. Melisende smiled at her husband with a slow, bewitching, dazzling smile, mastering her courage, and showed with her eyes to him that they should have followed the king.

Robin led Melisende out of the carriage, through in the vast square courtyard. He whispered into her ear that she was very beautiful. He had already informed her countless times of how beautiful and enchanting she looked, and Melisende felt that he indeed felt so; she only questioned whether Robin didn't regret marrying her. They both were overwhelmed by the events of the day.

Inside, there were many more people in the Citadel of Acre than on other days, for the sole reason of the wedding celebrations and pageantry. The interior contained countless armed King's guards and archers; here the majority of the men wore white tunics featuring a fully embroidered coat-of-arms of the three golden lions of England. This was necessary to ensure the safety of the king and his entourage.

The great hall was decorated with evergreen ribbons and various flowers, including violets of unusual shades of violet, blue, white, and some bicolored, arum lilies, and a multitude of cooper-colored, red, and white roses. Trestles dressed in green linen lined the perimeter of the room and brightly clad musicians and players, who waited to entertain the guests during and between the various interludes of the wedding feast. The chamber was filled with perfume of lilies, lavender, and rosemary.

King Richard sat at the center of the long table covered with an orgy of delicious French food and great wine from the best vineyards in the Loire Valley, with Robin and Melisende at his right and left, respectively. All the eyes in the hall were attached to Robin and Melisende, everyone smiling and congratulating them, as well as enjoying the lavish and opulent feast, a rare event in Outremer.

The atmosphere was jolly, filled with merry laughter and lighthearted enjoyment. The celebrations were colorful, expensive, and magnificent. Music was heavenly, companionship the finest, and dancing divine. The finest wine flowed in sparkling abundance, and goblets were never empty. Music, dancing and all the entertainments were held between each course of the feast.

King Richard watched Robin and Melisende conversing quietly. "Is there any other more stunning couple than the Earl of Huntingdon and the Countess of Huntingdon?" he asked jovially.

"There is no other couple like Robin and Melisende," Carter of Stretton agreed with a large smile.

"They are a stunning couple! They are also devoted servants," Henry de Champagne opined.

"You are fortunate indeed, Robin, to possess such a treasure. There is not a man here tonight who does not envy your good luck. We hope you realize that," the Earl of Leicester exclaimed.

The Earl of Leicester confided in Robin that the king had thrown a vast fortune on the wedding of his beloved cousin and his grand favorite. Richard had ordered to bring all the flowers for decorations from the gardens of the Castle of Limassol on Cyprus more than a month before the wedding. Leicester also said that many green decorations had been used to give an honor to Robin's adventures in Sherwood.

Robin lowered his head, his brow furrowing. "I just hope I would never let Melisende down."

King Richard raised a quizzical brow. "Why are you so sad, Robin?"

Robin's face blanched, and, in a voice slightly trembling, spoke. "I fear for Melisende's safety. I am hated by so many people. I can expose her life to many dangers."

"Am I not the King of England? Am I not powerful?" the Lionheart said pompously. "Aren't you married to Lady Melisende Plantagenet, my beloved cousin? Aren't you my friend?"

After Robin's return to Acre, Robin quickly discovered that nothing changed in his relationship with King Richard, who lavished him with his affection as much as it had been earlier. When they were together in private, Richard rarely used royal etiquette. Today, the king treated Robin not as his close friend, but more like a family member, which made Robin proud and happy.

"I know, sire, but–" The terror which had been gripping Robin's heart miraculously relaxed its hold. Although it was his function to protect his king, he was conscious of the extraordinary sense of security which only his proximity to Richard could give him.

The king cut him off sharply. "Never fear Prince John, for I will always be at your side. And John loves Melisende and he is unlikely to touch you or any of your descendants after your wedding to her."

"There is also the Sheriff of Nottingham."

"Vaisey would be a fool if he touched Melisende, who is loved by John and me; if he does something to her, it would be his death sentence signed by both John and me. But Vaisey is not a fool."

"I beg my pardon for talking… about that."

Richard patted his shoulder. "No need to apologize. I have always valued your honesty," he said with a genuine friendly affection. "Believe me I know what I am doing. So, then, you should stop driving yourself to madness with your fears."

Robin remained silent, his gaze bouncing anxiously between the king and Melisende, who was talking to Lady Catherine de Mathefelon, her lady-in-waiting. Then he stared at the king, smiling. "Thank you, milord. I am eternally indebted to you for your attention to my humble personality."

The king patted Robin's shoulder. "Robin, you are my friend, and I deeply care for you," he said in a personal manner. "You owe me nothing. You, of all people in the world, have been the most loyal and dearest friend. I am indebted to you, for you saved my life so many times. You have my undying gratitude, though it is not enough to repay my debt to you."

Robin was embarrassed. "Sire, I don't deserve your… high praise."

The lion drew away, but still without taking his eyes from his favorite. "Robin, you deserve my highest praises. You are a kind-hearted and noble-minded man, and I respect and love you more for that."

"I am glad that you consider me your friend, milord."

"And how can it be otherwise?" The lion chuckled.

Robin breathed easier. "Of course."

§§§

From the corner of his eye, Robin intercepted Melisende's enigmatic glances at him, and he knew that she smiled when she didn't want that, though she wasn't unhappy tonight. Her violet eyes intrigued him most of all in her appearance, for they were of such a rare color and were like hooks to doom, with all the violet shades whirling and changing, entrancing him to the core, to the brink of sanity.

Robin took a goblet of wine to his lips. "Melisende, you are sad but you are trying to put on a serene face," he asserted, slowly drinking wine, his eyes full of concern. "Did I do something wrong?"

A wistful expression crossed her face, but in an instant it turned blank. "I am truly sorry that your life has been turned upside down. You had to marry me out of loyalty to Richard, for political reasons. I am sure that you don't want to be tied to me with bonds of loveless marriage."

Robin slammed a goblet of wine at the table. He took her small hand in his and gave her a penetrating gaze. "I said once that I wouldn't have married you if I didn't want to, even if King Richard asked me to." He smirked. "But you are not ugly, squint-eyed or bandy-legged, so that I find my wife bearable."

Melisende laughed. "I am never bored with you."

He winked at her. "I am glad."

"And so am I."

Robin traced the line of her jaw lightly with his finger. She felt the caress and smiled enchantingly, her eyes wide-open. "I know everything is strange just now, but I hope we both will get accustomed."

"Yes," she said with hope. "Will I see you tonight?"

"Yeah, of course." Robin grinned at her, his fingers intertwining with hers and squeezing them.

Melisende lowered her head. "As you wish, Lord Huntingdon."

"Are you again so official to tease me? My name is Robin."

She laughed. "Robin is like a little bird, and it suits you, for you look so slender and so light that you remind me of a little bird."

"Oh," Robin breathed, grinning sheepishly. "Leicester was the first one who started calling me little bird, and others took an example from him…" His grin widened. "But I like it. It sounds beautiful and lyrical."

"I will call you Robert, then."

Robin shook his head. "I hate when people call me Robert…"

"I know."

"I know that you know," he retorted. "Please let me be Robin – never Robert."

"It depends on your behavior." She grinned, her violet eyes sparkling. "If you annoy and infuriate me, you will be Robert. If you are good and entertaining, then you will be Robin."

Robin frowned, glancing at her, but his eyes twinkled in mischief. "You want to infuriate me, right?"

She smiled enigmatically. "Of course, Robin."

"Oh, Madame! God help me in this marriage!"

She didn't share Robin's mischievous spirits; not before the wedding night. "God help me, too."

Robin was caught up in festive mood. He allowed himself to relax for the first time in many months, his heartache and pain being soothed by music and general merriment of the evening. With exasperated indulgence, he launched himself into pleasantries of the celebration, enjoying music. The provided entertainments raised Robin's flagging spirits and gave him confidence.

As Melisende was called by Henry de Champagne to collect wedding gifts, Robin sat beside King Richard, talking to the Knights Templar, including Sir Gilbert Horal, who had been recently elected Grand Master of Knights Templar. Everyone congratulated Robin with his marriage and his victory over Robert de Sablé. Robin was happy when the Knights Templar finally we gone, bowing deeply and giving their blessings.

"Oh, they are gone," Robin said, relieved.

"And we have a minute alone," King Richard continued.

"A short moment, I suspect," Robin said, frowning at the sight of the crowded entrance where more Knights Templar stood, waiting for an opportunity to approach them.

Richard bent his head down. "How do you feel being married to my cousin?" he whispered into Robin's ear, forgetting the royal protocol and his royal "we". He pulled back from his favorite, his brows raised quizzically. "It is an arranged political marriage, but I hope you are content. Tell me the truth."

"Melisende is an unusual and interesting lady," Robin acknowledged eagerly, feeling the king's breath on his skin. "I can never lie to you; I cannot say that I love her, but I am not indifferent to her."

"We told you that Melisende is a remarkable lady. If one ever meets her, one will never forget her."

Robin shook his head, as if to clear it. "I feel emotionally attached to Melisende. She understands me and never doubts my choices," he confessed, a slow flush spreading over his face. "And she… doesn't question my loyalty to you. I am grateful that you arranged this match for me."

The king eyed the younger man suspiciously. "Are you content? Are you telling me the truth?"

"Sire, I have been only truthful so far, but I should start telling you many falsehoods. Then I will finally have a sparring match you have promised me as a punishment. Save me, then, please!"

Richard exploded with laughter. He gathered Robin into his strong arms with a movement of spontaneous tenderness. The lion embraced Robin with affection, his large hand wrapped around Robin's back. Then the monarch thundered his palm on Robin's back and pulled away.

The king's lips stretched in a kind smile. "It would be hardly worthy for you to have a fight with me. You know that you will lose, Robin, and you don't want to be subjected to unmerited disgrace."

"I have no doubt that I will never be better than you are with a sword. But why can't I pretend at least for a while that I wish to tempt fate?"

"Pretend, but don't cross the line," the king said, a fake warning in his tone, his eyes twinkling.

"I will try to stay near the line, but I can promise nothing more." The king was in an elevated mood, and Robin could go on his familiar grinning and teasing; he knew that his liege enjoyed their mocking arguments and skirmishes, and he always used his chance.

"You are incorrigible!" Richard laughed.

"I am." Robin laughed.

"You still care for Lady Marian, don't you?"

"It doesn't stop just because you want it to," Robin supplied breathlessly.

"I think she also cares for you, as well as for the other man, Guy of Gisborne."

Robin stared at his liege in surprise. "Sire?"

"Robin, I mean that Lady Marian cares for you, but her heart is divided. And, don't get me wrong, but my opinion is that there is nothing worse than a marriage to a lady with a divided heart."

"I have realized that. I no longer hate Marian. I have accepted her choices. I just want to forget her."

"Good, Robin. This is a new sentiment from you that you, with all your good looks, natural charm, and legendary reputation, may be rejected by a woman. I know that it injured your heart and your pride. But rejections happen, and we have to move on. Just remember that soul is barren which doesn't invest itself in affection and love."

The Earl of Huntingdon gave a husky chuckle. "I am not in love, but I am content with what I have. I didn't forget the past, but I no longer view a marriage to another woman as impossible."

"I will give you advice." The king took Robin's hand in his, his eyes dancing with mirth. "Stop trying to catch the unattainable star in the distant sky. There are roses and stars behind you. Don't let them fade. Take what God and life give you. You may love someone from the past, but there is the present."

"You are right."

"Promise me, Robin. Promise me." The king wanted him to be happy, not wasting his life chasing after the shadows of the past and craving to have what he couldn't have.

"I promise." Robin, slightly amazed but pleased by his liege's comment, threw him a bright look.

The wedding feast continued. Courtly love songs and long chivalry ballads were performed by Blondel de Nesle, one of the most famous trouvères. Blonde was King Richard's favorite minstrel who accompanied the king to Acre and whose songs let everyone enjoy the courtly love in Outremer.

Blondel was lying at Melisende's feet singing "_Se savoient mon tourment_", one of his tragic love songs. King Richard, Robin, and everyone else were listening intently. The song was about for an indifferent beautiful lady who was mostly unattainable but very desirable for a poor poet, who was madly in love with her and whose heart was bleeding.

Richard, Melisende, and Robin were listening to the song as if they were entranced. Melisende's face was alight with gladness, for every woman loved to be courted and admired through his music, with deep emotions and undeniable sensuality.

_Se savoient mon tourment_

_Et auques de mon afaire_

_Cil qui demandent conment_

_Je puis tant de chançons faire,_

_Il diroient vraiement_

_Que nus a chanter n'entent_

_Qui mieuz s'en deüst retraire;_

_Maiz pour ce chant seulement_

_Que je muir pluz doucement._

King Richard looked at Blondel. "Play a little more loudly, Blondel. It is such a pleasant tune."

As the old troubadour sang a song of courtly love, Robin felt his heart beating faster, luxuriating in the mere rhythm of his soft and appealing voice, the vocal chords of Occitan, which he knew very well since childhood. His mind brought back the images of Queen Eleanor's court he loved with all his heart and missed. He had a feeling as if aristocratic music of troubadours were sounding in his ears. Engraved into his memory were those weeks when he had spent evenings in "_in __hall of lost footsteps_", the so-called_ La Salle des Pas Perdus_, or somewhere in Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine's ducal apartments at the Maubergeonne Tower, completely entranced and fascinated as he had watched performance of the queen's tumblers and had listened to songs of the Occitan troubadours.

When Robin had lived in Aquitaine during his knighthood training and then for more than a year during Richard's last rebellion against his father, he had devoted much time to studying the art of troubadours. He had excelled in Occitan, and he had enjoyed the art of troubadours. He admired the poets of the southland and their art that was created by them not for gain but for pleasure, not in cultured Latin but in the mellifluous vernacular of _the langue d'oc_, not for men but primarily for women of great castles and manors.

Blondel continued singing, all the eyes in the chamber attached to the troubadour.

_Trop par me grieze forment_

_Que cele est si debonaire_

_Qui tant de dolour me rent_

_Ce qu'a tout le mont doit plaire;_

_Maiz ne me grevast nïent,_

_Se la tres bele au cors gent_

_Me feïst touz ces maus traire._

_Maiz ce m'ocit vraiement_

_Qu'el ne set que pour li sent._

Robin gave a tragic, strident laugh that would have been painful to hear if it wasn't so quiet. Blondel sang that the poet's heart was broken, his heart like a large bleeding wound, aching for the beautiful mistress; but she was cold and indifferent, and the poet couldn't have her even in her dreams, eventually dying for his love. Inside, his heart was breaking, as if an amorous tragedy had seeped into his bones and were looming in the deepest depths of his anguished mind.

Blondel's poem somewhat mirrored the situation with Robin's love for Marian and the tragedy of her betrayal of his love for her. As Blondel sang that love was slowly killing the poet, tormenting him, Robin imagined himself in the poet's role; rage and jealousy tormented him as if he were burning in flames of hellfire. He couldn't ward off the moment of despair, feeling as if all burdens were weighing down on his shoulders and his life were about to end. For a moment, the resplendent surroundings seemed almost pitched dark, resembling the dark void in Robin's heart.

_Se seüst certeinnement _

_Mon martire et mon contraire _

_Cele por qui je consent _

_Que l'amour me tient et maire, _

_Je croi bien qu'alegement _

_M'envoiast procheinnement; _

_Quar par droit le deüst faire, _

_Se reguars a escïent _

_De ses biaux ieus ne me ment._

Richard turned his gaze at Robin, and his eyes rested gravely on the younger man's face which was ghostly pale and devoid of any emotions, but his cold eyes were full of pain. Robin intercepted the lion's concerned gaze, and he shot his liege a ghost of his usual charming smile.

Robin felt his heart thudding loudly in his chest as his memory recalled with a ruthless clarity all Marian's promises and words of love and then her final cold lecture about his loyalty to the king. Helpless rage slashed through him, and he swore to cut all ties to Marian, to forget her.

_Chançons, va isnelement_

_A la bel au cler viaire,_

_Si li di tant seulement:_

_Qui de bons est, souëf flaire._

_Ne l'os prier autrement,_

_Quar trop pensai hautement,_

_Si n'en puis mon cuer retraire._

_Et se pitiez ne l'en prent,_

_Blondiaus muert, que pluz n'atent._

Robin shook his head, trying to banish the image of Marian's face from his mind. He promised himself that of his love for Marian nothing would become only a vague nostalgia, but there were still stirrings in his heart and in his loins whenever he thought of the beautiful, courageous, and cruel brunette; yet, his longing was mingled with a somewhat selfish sense of relief at having escaped from fatal temptation. He persuaded himself that had he decided to stay in Nottingham, watching Gisborne and Marian, he would have turned his back on the supreme gift which fate and King Richard had offered him – Lady Melisende Plantagenet.

"_Se savoient mon tourment_," Robin muttered to himself. "_Et auques de mon afaire, Cil qui demandent conment Je puis tant de chançons faire..._ "

Unknown to Robin, Melisende kept her violet eyes firmly fixed on her husband's, so that the words of love in the song seemed to be about Robin's love story alone, and possibly, hers, if he broke her heart, she mused. At that instant, Robin's eyes met hers, and quiet plaintive words of the lament fell from his lips. Robin drove the thought of Marian and Gisborne out of his mind with an impatient little shiver, but still the sense of her betrayal lingered.

Blondel finished and silence fell in the chamber. Robin, eyes lowered, let his hands slip down on to his knees, feeling suddenly horribly nervous and yet excited in anticipation of his wedding night. There was loud, heated applause for Blondel's performance, and Robin turned his head to the king and the others.

"Magnificent and sad," Robin said reverently, his pale blue eyes glowing, their color lighting to nearly translucent.

"This is heavenly," Melisende said rapturously.

King Richard smiled at Robin warmly. "Enjoying?"

"Yes. You know, sire, I am very fond of music," Robin said.

Melisende smiled. "Richard, it is good that you keep Blondel here."

Smiling earnestly, the king gazed at the troubadour who began singing a new verse. "Blondel makes life here more bearable. His gentle songs are better than music of our trumpeters."

Robin laughed, with a touch of heartiness. "Well, I cannot disagree." His face turned a little wistful. "I miss the court of love and Aquitaine so much. I loved being there."

The lion's face also changed into wistfulness. "You are not alone, friend. I miss Aquitaine, too."

Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, smiled lazily. "Robin, you have only northern blood in your veins. Yet, you are so fond of troubadours and you speak Occitan so well. I have been amazed by this fact since I met you in Poitou more than ten years ago."

Immediately alarmed, the lion turned to Leicester. "Robert, why do you consider Robin's preferences strange?"

Leicester shrugged. "A rare Saxon lord is so interested in courtly love so much and misses Aquitaine so much."

"Yeah, it is just me," Robin teased, slowly draining his goblet of wine.

"Certainly, Robin Hood." Leicester smiled.

"But I am not a pure Saxon lord," Robin remarked. "My mother, Lady Elizabeth of Locksley, was born in England, but her mother – my grandmother – was actually from Aquitaine."

The Earl of Leicester chuckled. "Oh, I didn't know that."

Robin winked at his friend. "Well, now you know."

"I do." Leicester laughed.

"And don't forget that troubadours praise high ideals and promote common virtue, which is consistent with Robin Hood's ideals," Robin said, but with a touch of wistfulness he was unable to repress.

"Ah, I forgot, Robin Hood! I am so sorry!" Leicester gasped in amazed delight.

They laughed pleasantly at Leicester's joke, everyone except for Richard; the king laughed unpleasantly, almost mechanically, his eyes doleful for an instant before turning blank. Richard refilled his goblet with wine and made a sip, his expression thoughtful. Melisende noticed subtle changes in her cousin's demeanor; their eyes locked in a private moment of communication, until the king tore his gaze from hers and turned away, shifting into his chair uncomfortably.

The lion sighed sadly. "Robert, we love when you put on your court airs, but we don't appreciate your remarks about Robin's unusual origins and tastes. We don't like that." To show his displeasure, he again became more formal and used his royal "we".

"I am sorry, my liege," Leicester drawled, genuinely astonished. "It will never happen again."

"Let's forget about that, Robert. It is alright," the lion dismissed his favorite's concerns.

Melisende and Robert looked at Richard in amazement. Robin felt chills dance up his backbone, sensing that there was something behind the façade of the king's blankness. Robin stared at the king, his eyes locking with the lion's; the king smiled warmly and Robin smiled back, which was noticed by the lion who gave him a smile of rare warmth, and Robin failed to understand its meaning.

King Richard raised his hand, signaling for silence. "Now our Comtessa de Dia will sing to her beloved Raimbaut of Orange," he announced, looking at his cousin. "Melisende, go on!"

Every pair of eyes was directed at the king's cousin. Melisende grew up at the court of love, and she was known to sing some love songs, with a special preference for the songs of Comtessa Beatriz de Dia, a famous female troubadour who sang to her beloved Raimbaut of Orange; she often gave solo performances at the court of love. Then Melisende started singing in Occitan the song _"Ab joi et ab joven m'apais"_ ("_Now I must sing of what I would not do…_").

_Ab joi et ab joven m'apais_

_E jois e jovens m'apaia,_

_Que mos amics es lo plus gais_

_Per q'ieu sui condet'e gaia ;_

_E pois eu li sui veraia,_

_Be is taing q'el me sia verais ;_

_C'anc de lui amar no m'estrais,_

_Ni ai cor que m'en estraia._

Melisende was singing about the lady who fell in love with the knight, but who failed to reciprocate her affections. She sang very well, her voice was melodic and strong, piercing the audience to the depths of their hearts. But Melisende sang for Robin and only for him, looking into his eyes and smiling at him.

Tears came to Robin's eyes as he looked into her glowing violet eyes. "_Now I must sing of what I would not do, complain of him I confess to loving true; I love him more than any the world can view: yet my grace and courtesy own no value, nor my beauty, my worthiness, my mind; I'm deceived, betrayed, as would be my due, If the slightest charm in me he failed to find…_"

_Mout mi plai car sai que val mais_

_Sel q'ieu plus desir que m'aia,_

_E cel que primiers lo m'atrais_

_Dieu prec que tran jo l'atraia ;_

_E qui que mal l'en retraia,_

_No l creza fors so qu'ie l retrais ;_

_C'om cuioll maintas vetz los balais_

_Ab q'el mezeis se balaia._

Robin felt as if Melisende were punishing him with her song for her constant thoughts of Marian. Robin closed his eyes, his heart withering in anguish and guilt. Dragging a deep breath, Robin opened his eyes and the cries of grief were silenced by Melisende's entrancing smile.

_E dompna q'en bon pretz s'enten_

_Deu ben pausar s'entendenssa_

_En un pro cavallier valen,_

_Pois qu'ill conois sa valenssa._

_Que l'aus amar a presenssa,_

_Que dompna pois am'a presen_

_Ja pois li pro ni li valen_

_No n dirant mas avinenssa._

Robin's heart hammered harder as she started singing about the lady's pledge to conqueror the knight's love. The words sounded like an oath Melisende gave her husband. "_I solace myself with this, I was false never my friend, to you, neither in acts nor manner; I love you more than Seguis loved Valensa; to conquer you in love gives me more pleasure, dear friend, for, of all, you are the worthiest; yet proud to me in deeds and what you utter, though you seem humble towards all the rest_."

Robin missed several verses of the song, his eyes focused on Melisende's face. And then she finished singing and gave him a smile that was more dazzling and more captivating than all her smiles she had flashed before, Robin felt his heart a tart feeling of guilt filling him entirely and overwhelming him.

The chamber exploded in applause, but Robin heard nothing. He could look only at Melisende.

* * *

><p><em>I hope you truly enjoyed this chapter and the plot.<em>

_Vaisey, Guy and a few other companions finally depart to the Holy Land. Well, this chapter is more about Robin than Guy and others, as the first chapter was mainly about Guy. We are only in several steps from the shocking, dramatic, and head-spinning events in Acre. Some new characters appear in the next chapter (maybe you understand whom I mean). The culmination of part 2 of this long epic is between chapters 6 and 10, though much drama begins in chapter 4._

_As we see, Marian and Isabella are taken hostage by Vaisey, who is planning to use the two unfortunate women as a method to handle and pressure Guy. Poor Guy! Guy is trapped by Vaisey who wants him to kill the king, and, as you probably understand, Guy is going to have a difficult time in Acre (but not only Guy is going to have great troubles). I remind you that Guy doesn't feel very enthusiastic about killing King Richard. _

_Do you have any interesting thoughts about Isabella? She plays an important role in this story. She will be heavily featured in the upcoming chapters._

_Robin is again conducting reconnaissance in disguise, though he fails to find Vaisey's allies. I used the plan of ancient Acre when I wrote the part about Robin's strolls in Acre. I also decided to finally give you some backstory for Djaq, for I like her as a character._

_I hope you liked the descriptions of Robin's marriage to Melisende. If we suppose that Robin indeed has such a close relationship with the king and all the more marries the king's cousin, then the wedding ceremony must surely be grand and splendid. Actually, I can confess that writing this chapter was a sheer pleasure for me because it is about calm and beautiful events in Acre, and I enjoyed writing about the wedding ceremony and the feast, especially the part related to courtly love._

_By the time Vaisey, Guy, and others arrive in the Holy Land, Robin is already married to Melisende for several months. The important twist is that Robin finally stopped hating Marian and accepted her choices, though it doesn't mean that he has completely forgotten her and that he isn't hurting. Robin is not in love, but he is surely not as heartbroken and devastated as he used to be in part 1 of this long epic when Marian married Guy. Well, Robin deserves some happiness and peace, at least a little – don't forget that Vaisey is on the way to Acre and he is not going to stop his attempts to kill Richard._

_I hope you liked my idea to add in this chapter some information about Blondel and his real songs! I think the mysterious relationship between King Richard and Blondel is one of the coolest things about romances in the life of King Richard. Moreover, Richard Plantagenet was known to be fond of music and was nurtured in the troubadour culture of Queen Eleanor's southern homeland, so some additions about Aquitanian music are quite valuable in this story._

_If you remember the triangle Robin/King Richard/Guy and the truth about Robin's relationship with the king, you may see why I give you some information about Robin's supposed love and interest in Aquitanian culture. By the way, on the show, many aspects of Robin's personality were a kind of similar to some qualities of character, which the inhabitants of Poitou had. Take Robin's love for theatrics, which was not a typical feature for many Saxons and was easily found in almost every southern soul!_

_It is not the last time when King Richard's beloved troubadour Blondel and his songs are featured here. The information about one of the most famed female troubadour Beatritz de Dia, known only as the Comtessa de Dia, the Countess of Diá, is historically correct._

_To make sure that we are on same page, I want to remind you of the full names in this story (they are rarely used). They are Sir Robert James Fitzooth of Locksley, the Earl of Huntingdon (very similar to legends); Sir Guy Crispin FitzCorbet of Gisborne (like on the show, except that Guy has a surname FitzCorbet); Lady Marian Isabella Fitzwalter of Knighton (like on the show); and Lady Melisende Adelaide Plantagenet, Countess de Bordeaux (fictional character); and other characters._

_Did you like it? Or did you hate it? Thank you __J_

**_All the reviews are very welcome, even ones with harsh critique. I think all kinds of feedback are precious, and I always try to find in critique something useful to improve the plotline of a particular story and improve my own writing. _**

_If you find any typos and/or mistakes here, please let me know about them in a private message. _

_Thank you for reading this chapter. Have a lovely weekend._

_Yours faithfully, Penelope Clemence_


	4. Chapter 3 Secrets in the Darkness

**Chapter 3**

**Secrets in the Darkness**

While everyone was involved in a lively conversation and celebrated the wedding in the great hall, there were two people who sought solitude for an important conversation. Sir Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, and Lady Melisende Plantagenet, the Countess of Huntingdon and Countess de Bordeaux in her own right, slipped from the banqueting hall and went out into the garden. They had to talk about their secret they were keeping from King Richard, Robin, and the world. Melisende wanted to talk to Robert, and he could never refuse to give her any gift.

It was a little chilly and fresh, but it was still pleasant to be in the magnificent garden in the Citadel of Acre. There was no desert around them. The green leaves of the trees gleamed like emeralds, and the clear water of the fountains shimmered in the rays of the setting sun.

"Are you alright, Melisende?" Robert inquired with concern as soon as they stepped into the garden.

They were alone in this part of the garden. They could hear only the distant sounds of the music Blondel was playing for the guests, as well as twittering of birds.

Melisende slid her long fingers along the bare skin of her palm, her eyes a bright violet in the fading afternoon light. "I am a little dizzy. I suppose we have been indoors too long."

Robert nodded. "We also had too much wine." He slipped his arm through hers, leading her in the depths of the garden. "Come. You will feel better now."

They slowly descended the steps on the other side of the veranda, and then crossed the terraced garden. They stopped to rest near the artificial pond and sat down on a bench. They sat quietly, gazing at the water and the dark sky, breathing in the scent of the fresh sea air.

Melisende kept her eyes on the gardens, but she laid her hand on Robert's shoulder. "Lord Leicester, there is something between us that cannot be easily forgotten."

Robert was silent for a while before he started speaking in a low voice. "It is indeed very difficult to forget many things, especially you, Melisende." He sighed heavily. "Remember the last time when you were so close to me?" He took her hand in his. "I wanted to see you so much. I needed to see you."

She turned her gaze at him. "You wanted to tell me that you didn't love me."

"Yes." Robert hung his head. "I wanted you to know the truth. I wanted you to know that my heart was given to a woman whom I would never be able to marry." He let out a sigh of grief. "Never ever."

"You could have told me that you didn't love me before… we started out relations."

"Melisende," Robert called helplessly, under his breath, "I feel guilty that I misled you. You of all ladies never deserved that."

She smiled weakly. "I also misled myself that I loved you, Robert."

"Yes, you did." He sighed. "I told you that you didn't love me."

"And you were right."

Robert leaned down and kissed her on the forehead; it was a friendly kiss, without passion or hunger for each other. "Whatever happened between us, I wanted to apologize to you for misleading you and for every other time in my life when I could have caused you pain."

She smiled at him. "No worries, Robert. I understand everything."

Robert looked into her violet eyes. "In one Saracen raid near Ascalon, I saved King Richard's life, but I was severely injured in my right side. Everyone thought that I would die, but I survived my grievous wound; then the king ordered me to go home to recuperate, like he had sent home Robin a year earlier." He averted his eyes. "On the way to Normandy, I changed my route and went to Paris, where spent two weeks with the woman who is my only true love; she again broke my heart." He swallowed heavily. "I left her in Paris and went to Normandy, to Caen, where I met you."

"And you decided that I could have helped you forget your pain," Melisende finished.

Robert turned his head to face her, his expression apologetic. "Melisende, I spent six years in the Holy Land, surrounded by death and bloodshed. And then I finally returned home, tired, recovering from my wound, and disillusioned by war." He smiled radiantly. "You were a beautiful girl of fourteen when we departed to Acre, and I was stunned to see you after so many years." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "I was stunned to discover that a little beautiful girl became the most beautiful woman whom I have ever seen in my entire life."

"Oh, Lord Robert, was I really so beautiful and so tempting?" She smiled, showing her white teeth.

"Well, Lady Melisende, you know very well that every man ceases breathing and is at your feet as soon as he sees your face," Robert answered teasingly, smiling. He brushed a lock of red-gold hair from her forehead. "Many people say that you are as beautiful as Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine once was, and I agree with them." He let out a sigh. "You are much more beautiful than my only true love has ever been." He cursed aloud. "You seduced me with your beauty and charms, and I quickly gave in."

"I was charmed by you, Robert. You were the most handsome man I have ever seen," she said.

He raised a brow. "And Robin? Isn't he handsome?"

Melisende rolled her eyes, knowing that he again teased her. "Robin is very handsome and his light charm is overpowering – it is exactly what I like in men. I have never been attracted to men with dark and dangerous handsomeness, and there is something very light around you and Robin." Her heart shouted to say something else about Robin, but she forced herself to remain still and silent.

Robert winked at her. "Well, I have already realized that you like Robin. Girls like him very much."

She slapped him playfully on his shoulder. "No need to remind me that Robin and you are ladies men." Her expression evolved into significance. "But I met you before I accidentally stumbled into Robin of Locksley in the moonlit garden in Limassol." She looked away from him a melancholic smile. "I sought private meetings with you. I thought that I fell in love with you."

"You thought that I was the love of your life, but it wasn't true."

"Yes," she confirmed. "And it was my fault that you gave in to my charms."

"I would say we both are responsible for our affair."

They sat in a solemn silence listening to the distant sounds of the melodies Blondel was playing for the guests, watching a bird swoop down from the sky and fly low, above the water in the fountain. It was like a dream for both of them – a perfect but very sad moment in time.

"You made me so happy, Robert. You didn't love me, but it was so good to be with you," she stated tenderly. Yet, simmering beneath her unimaginably profound optimism and joy was a fear that their secret would ruin her life and marriage.

"And it was good for me to be with you," Robert replied. "I never believed I would ever experience anything like moments of joy and bliss you gave me. It was tremendous – it was great." He cradled her chin in his hand and looked into her eyes. "Thank you, Melisende."

Melisende smiled. "So we are friends, aren't we?"

Robert smiled back. "Yes, we are."

She lowered her head, looking at the ground. "My wedding night is today."

"And you are worried that you are not a maid, aren't you?"

She raised her eyes, staring into his eyes. "Yes."

A dark shadow crossed his features. "I offered you to talk to Robin three months ago and tell him everything about us, but you assured me that you would solve the problem."

"I was a coward." Her voice was barely a whisper.

He tensed. "I should have talked to him a long time ago."

"Robin won't be impressed with me," she said, pulling away slightly on the bench.

"Do you want me to give you a good advice that will make Robin yours forever?" He gave her a mischievous look, and she nodded at him, not quite understanding what he was talking about.

"Tell me, Robert." Her eyes were pleading. "Please tell me."

"Tell Robin the truth tonight, when he comes to you for the wedding night," Robert said seriously. "Tell Robin everything about us. Tell him only the truth – the absolute truth."

She looked terrified. "Robin will reject me! He will insult me! He will hate me!"

He shook his head. "No, he won't."

Melisende blinked. Her face had a strangely hopeful look, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. "No man can ever be happy to learn that his new wife was… with his best friend."

He gave her a nearly angelic smile. "Melisende, you don't know Robin as much as I know him," he said sincerely, his eyes compassionate and kind, not mischievous and mocking as usual. "I met Robin at Prince Richard's court twelve years ago, and we quickly became friends. Robin and I are alike in many things, and our characters are so similar that at times I myself don't believe in that."

She smiled faintly. "I have noticed that."

"I swear Robin doesn't care whether you are a maid or not," he declared with conviction. "On the contrary, he doesn't like maids. He has never taken a maid as a lover, except for only one case in his life. He is an honest man, and, besides, he doesn't like inexperienced women as lovers."

"I am his wife, not a lover," she objected.

"It doesn't matter," Robert continued with the same confidence. "Robin will listen to you, and he will understand you. Most importantly, he doesn't want to deal with maids anymore."

Melisende looked amazed. "Why?"

Robert turned his gaze toward the horizon in a distance. "Robin was twice betrothed to Lady Marian Fitzwalter of Knighton whom he loved very much," he began in sorrowful tones. "She broke their first betrothal before we went to the Holy Land. They parted on very bad terms more than seven years ago. Robin offered to marry her before leaving Nottingham, but she was so angry that she wished him to never come back and threw her ring into his face. She was blinded by anger."

Her face contorted in a shocked grimace. "Wished him to never come back? Is she mad?" She shook her head in disbelief. "And why was she angry if he was doing his duty to his king and country?"

Robert laughed. "Lady Marian believed that Robin only craved glory," he answered. "And Robin was an utter fool because he didn't explain to her that he wanted to become a man, not a spoiled boy lord as other nobles called him. He felt that he was unworthy of her love. He didn't tell her that he wanted to become a strong man fighting for England and the King of England." He laughed almost tragically. "Actually, I had the same thoughts when I joined the Crusade. I was a naïve lad, like Robin."

She scowled. "But she wished him to never come back!"

He made a helpless gesture. "Lady Marian didn't wish Robin to die. She said those words in despair and anger, which clouded her judgment," he explained. "In anger, we often speak about things we don't mean and don't want to say." He rubbed his temple. "Lady Marian loved Robin, but she wanted him to stay and live in Locksley for the rest of his life. She never understood him. She never looked into his naked soul, though I have to say that Robin never gave her a chance to do that."

Melisende smiled charmingly. "How, may I ask, is it familiar, Lord Leicester?"

Robert grinned sheepishly. "It is my case, too, my lady."

"Robin is always guarding his true emotions, like you, Robert."

"Yes."

"And what happened to Lady Marian?" She was curious.

"When Robin came back to England, they reconciled in some time," he continued. "Robin proposed to Marian when he lived in the forest, and she accepted. She told him that she loved him." Then his face evolved into resentment. "But in the end she broke his heart."

"What did she do?"

Robert ran his eyes across the garden. "Lady Marian of Knighton seems to have been torn between Robin and another man, a very bad man. She married Sir Guy of Gisborne, who once tried to kill King Richard and wounded Robin. She didn't even break her second betrothal to Robin before marrying Robin's sworn enemy. She betrayed him in the worst possible way."

Melisende shook her head in apparent disgust. "Good God, Lady Marian seems to be out of her mind! She exchanged Robin, loyal, handsome, brave, and honest, for a despicable traitor!" She shrugged. "It would have been better if she stayed at home, staring into the fire and doing her embroidery instead of playing with the feelings of two men and breaking hearts of those who love her!"

Robert sat very still, his eyes narrow. "Melisende, you are too harsh."

"No, I am not harsh!" She stared down, at the lawn.

"You don't know Lady Marian. She is not a bad lady – she is a very interesting and beautiful creature."

"When did you meet her?"

He looked somewhat wistful as his mind traveled back to the events of distant past. "When Robin and I were fifteen, in several months after the end of our knighthood training, I spent with Robin the whole autumn and winter in Huntingdon and in Locksley," he responded in a flat voice. "I often met Lady Marian at Locksley Manor when she came there with her father, who managed Robin's estates. Her father and she also came to the court in Poitiers when Robin lived there for a year."

"It is enough time to assess a person."

"I didn't like her very much, though she was besotted with Robin and he returned her affection."

"Why didn't you like her?"

"I respected Lady Marian and I saw that she was a remarkable girl, I would say a unique girl, but I never considered her a suitable match for Robin." Robert ran his hand through his hair; he drew a deep breath. "Many years ago, I told Robin my opinion – I said that he shouldn't have proposed to Marian before the Crusade. He didn't listen to me, and then he was rejected."

Melisende cocked her head to one side. "They are so incompatible?"

Robert shrugged. "They could have been together, but they both made many mistakes." He tapped a finger on the bench. "I have always thought that Marian would be unable to understand Robin, at least until she grew up and matured enough to be able to deal with Robin's complicated inner world," he enlightened. "When Robin was in the Holy Land, before he was sent to England, many times I recommended that he forget about her. I told him that she didn't deserve him." He grimaced. "Well, I was right. Anyway, what is done can never be undone."

Melisende looked shocked. Her mouth turned dry, the dark violet flame coruscating in her eyes. "For the love of Heaven, Robert, tell me what Lady Marian could find in this traitor if she was betrothed to the most handsome, most charming, most loyal, most compassionate, and noblest man on Earth!" She spoke passionately and impatiently. "It seems that this lady hurt Robin very much."

"You are again very harsh and unfair," Robert gave a slight rebuke. With his pale green eyes glittering, he stared into her stormy violet eyes. "Lady Marian broke Robin's heart, but he also broke her heart when he left for the war. They are even-steven in breaking each other's hearts." He paused, lowering his voice. "But I cannot approve of what she did to Robin."

Her heart constricted in pain. "She wronged him."

"Melisende, they wronged each other in many ways – too many ways," Robert said in a steady voice. "Robin was a fool and did many… questionable things in their difficult relationship. He also broke her heart when he left and chose war. He… always chose his duty over his love for her, and I understand why she didn't want to be with Robin and wait for the king's return." He sighed. "But Robin is my best friend and I am on his side because Marian's marriage to Guy of Gisborne caused Robin much pain."

"I understand."

"Robin and Marian are not saints, and they both are at fault for the destruction of their relationship."

She nodded. "One party cannot be guilty."

"And that's why, Melisende, you cannot hurt Robin again," Robert retorted. "If you don't tell Robin the truth tonight, you will make him disappointed in you later." He smiled. "If you reveal the truth to him, even disclosing my name as your lover, Robin will accept the fact and everything will be fine."

She nodded numbly. "I understand."

Robert glanced attentively at Melisende, then took her hands in his. "Melisende, you possess a great talent to understand human nature much more deeply than others could ever do that." He squeezed her hand. "You understand Robin so well, although you know him for several months. You see through Robin's mask of the golden boy – you can see what he truly keeps in his heart."

"I am trying," she admitted humbly.

He chuckled. "It is your natural talent to see through the people," he praised. "I believe that you can make Robin happy or at least content."

She tossed her head. "I will do everything I can to make him happy."

His gaze turned ever-penetrating. "Don't hurt Robin. Never hurt him. He deserves to be happy," he whispered. "Tell Robin the truth about us. Only the truth."

"I will do that," she murmured. "Tonight."

Robert looked into the depths of her eyes. "It is a right decision, Melisende." A faint smile touched his lips. "If you confess to Robin in everything, you will make him respect you and be proud of you for your honesty and bravery. Believe me that he will not reject you."

Melisende wasn't optimistic. "I hope so much that he won't start loathing me."

He smiled heartily. "You do like Robin, don't you?" It sounded as a statement, not a question.

"I do like Robin. I do want him," Melisende whispered earnestly, the color high in her cheeks. "Robert, you are right. I want Robin so much that I can hardly bear it."

"But you wish you didn't," Robert assumed.

Melisende gave a nod. "Yes, I can't deny it. I am drawn to Robin like a moth to a flame. I feel that if I give in to temptation and passion I feel for him, I will burn myself for him." She touched her forehead, and she gasped as her mind replayed the image of Robin's handsome face and his cheeky grin. "But no matter how many times I tell myself that I shouldn't feel a great affection for him, I can't help but feel it. It is as natural as life and death, sunset and nightfall, hell and paradise."

Her words made him smile. "Melisende, you are falling for my best friend."

"I love Robin of Locksley," she confessed despite her fears and anxieties. She took a few deep breaths to calm her racing heart, and then went on. "I love Robin in a hundred different ways – I love him for his bravery, foolhardiness, compassion, kindness, arrogance, annoyance, righteousness, honesty, madness, and theatrics – for all his strengths and weaknesses." She glanced at him with profound sadness. "And you are right that I never felt something like that for you." She placed a hand on her breast. "What I feel for Robin is something deeper, much deeper. It takes all my heart."

Robert smiled at her. "It is exactly what I thought. You are in real love with my best friend."

"But he will never love me back!" She exclaimed, her expression a cameo of sheer sorrow.

He let out a rich chuckle. "Robin cares for you. He is greatly attracted to you." He paused, looking at her with a grin that splashed across his face. "Believe me that Robin will fall in love with you. Be patient and give him time. Become his friend and confident."

She doubted that he was right. "Why do you think that he will fall in love with me?"

"I know my friend very well," Robert said emphatically. "Robin will never completely forget Marian, and she is going to continue having a strong effect on him." His last words sounded contemptuous. "Yet, Robin will eventually either fall out of love with her or he will be able to love you, not forgetting her. He will surely love you, maybe in his own way and not with all his heart, but he will love you."

Melisende shook her head miserably, and despite herself, she felt tears flood to her eyes. "I don't know, Robert. I want to believe you, but I doubt that you are right."

Robert brushed tears away from her cheeks. "Believe me that Robin will be yours, and I am sure that it will happen quite soon," he said with overpowering confidence. "He is already disappointed in Marian. And disappointment and betrayal cool off passion and kill love. Love runs out in the end."

"Thank you, Robert," Melisende said with gratitude. "Can we go back now?"

He offered her his hand, smiling. "I agree, Melisende. We should return to the great hall until they remarked our absence."

Melisende struggled to smile and appear confident. "Of course."

Robert gave her a reassuring smile. "Everything will be alright." His tone was soothing and soft. "Just do what I recommended. Don't be afraid and be honest." He winked at her. "You will see that you will be respected and admired by Robin for your honesty and bravery."

She winked at him, too. "You will always be a cheeky mischief-maker, Lord Leicester?"

He laughed jovially. "Always, my dear lionet."

In the great hall, dancing began. Robin extended his hand to Melisende and led her into the first set of steps, and then passed her to the Earl of Leicester, soon again meeting with his wife on the dance floor. He whirled Melisende about the dance floor, his head spinning, his blue eyes sparkling in his grinning face. His wife laughed, and Robin shivered at the eerie sound it produced as it echoed over him. Surrounded by his friends and being so close to the beautiful, desirable lady he had married, Robin left his emotional guard down and laughed, as if he had forgotten all his pain and troubles.

Robin danced very well, and took special pleasure in the intricate figures. Sometimes a hand would clasp his meaningfully, but he was too involved in the dance to notice. In one of the dances, Robin partnered Lady Isabella of Jerusalem, his one-time lover in the garden of the Castle of Limassol when he had a sensational duel with Henry de Champagne. She looked beautiful and seductive, as always, resplendent in a gown of red silk embroidered with little golden lioncels.

"I have heard you have reached a truce with my Henry," Isabella of Jerusalem said to Robin as they met, parted and turned. "I have to confess that I was astonished."

Robin bowed to her. "Your husband and I have many important things to do together. We don't need scandals, public taunting and bickering."

Isabella smiled cunningly. "It is important for peace in the Holy Land."

"Yes, exactly," he confirmed, jerking away from her a fraction.

"Huntingdon," Isabella called him, making him pause and half turn to her. She smiled demurely. "Have you ever thought to repeat what we had in Limassol? Henry doesn't care for me. He was simply angry that it was you who became my lover, and he was also drunk that evening."

Robin cleared his throat, feeling like a tongue-tied squire. "Sorry, but this will never happen again."

Her smile faded. "Why?"

"I am a married man, Lady Isabella," Robin said flatly, his voice cold. "Forgive me. I will leave you."

Soon Robin met Lady Catherine de Mathefelon, also his former lover, on the dance floor. He hoped that Melisende would dismiss the lady from her service, for the fact that he had once slept with one of his wife's ladies-in-waiting was disturbing. Catherine looked seductive and desirable in her indecently low cut gown with off-the-shoulder sleeves, which was made out of silver-and-blue silk.

"Lord Huntingdon, you are such a lucky man that you married Lady Melisende," Lady Catherine de Mathefelon remarked as they began to perform a new path of steps.

"I know," Robin said briefly.

"Huntingdon, if you need a lover, you can always come to me."

"I am not intending to betray my marriage vows." Robin stifled a groan, irritated with her advances.

"Oh." She looked disappointed.

"It is true, Lady Catherine."

"I can understand! Lady Melisende is too beautiful for a mere mortal!" Catherine exclaimed as she swayed giddily on her toes in a dance. "But I will miss you, Sir Robin."

A thin, ironic smile touched Robin's mouth. "You will see that my reformation from an unmarried cheeky rogue to a faithful cheeky husband will be progressing nicely."

"Lady Melisende possesses a treasure," Catherine said, tugging hard at Robin's sleeve in a dance. "I would have done everything to be in Lady Melisende's shoes, Huntingdon."

Robin rolled his eyes; then his expression changed into seriousness. "Lady Catherine, believe me that you wouldn't envy my wife if you knew me as much as she would eventually learn about me."

Catherine gave him a startled glance, but then she gave him a tender smile, her eyes full of hunger for him. Then she swung her gaze to another man as another turn briefly separated them, and Robin was relieved that he didn't have to tolerate her advances. He was glad that they were separated in a dance.

Robin danced, but his eyes were searching for his wife. His heart thundered in his chest as his eyes met Melisende's eyes, for the sight of the beautiful temptress – the goddess of beauty and wit – make him wish to hold her in his arms and taste the sweetness of her luscious lips.

§§§

The smell of wine, the sounds of music, and the hubbub of voices blended with scents of the violets and lilies spread throughout the great hall. Robin and Melisende met each other in a next dance. Turning sideways of him, careful not to break eye contact, she swished her heavy brocade skirts about to the rhythm of the music, teasing him with flashes of her slim thighs. As sadder notes of chanson filled the air, she whirled toward him, her head bowed in a momentary submissive gesture. With the last tremendous beat of the music, she straightened her back, springing forward, one arm reached over her head, the other extended toward him as he took it in his.

Robin's eyes locked with Melisende's, and he flashed a smile. "You dance divinely, Melisende."

"You danced with Lady Isabella and Lady Catherine," Melisende said dryly, ignoring his compliment.

He grinned boyishly. "Can I hope that you are jealous?"

She frowned, then licked her lips teasingly, just for effect. "Oh, Huntingdon, and you think I care?"

"Your frown proves your jealousy," he returned.

She folded her arms over her too-ample breasts that were thankfully shielded from his gaze by that shroud of her splendid wedding gown. "Oh, well, I just had something in my eye!"

"Yeah, then so be it." Robin eyed Melisende, then released a deep sigh. He wanted his wife as much as he had wanted only one woman – Marian. He even wanted her more than he had wanted Marian in the woods. He wanted her for herself and not as simply one more distraction from his painful memories.

"Hmm," she said. "That's true."

"I will never betray my marriage vows with Lady Isabella of Jerusalem or Lady Catherine de Mathefelon or with anyone else," he said meaningfully. "Isabella and Catherine… are lovely, polite, elegant, and noble, but emotionally they are as empty as china dolls, or so it seems."

Melisende chuckled. "I cannot believe that you are going to be faithful."

He grinned at her, his blue eyes blazing. "I have no lovers," he admitted.

The evening was full for Robin, and it was a matter of dashing from pleasure to pleasure. Robin was the savior of England and the people's hero, but he also was a courier. He was a normal young man, and on such a magnificent feast he looked for his pleasures in dancing and gambling. He danced with Melisende, her ladies-in-waiting, and other women. He danced with Isabella of Jerusalem and her ladies. They even had dancing on the grass in the garden and a long theatrical entertainment in the open air.

If Robin didn't dance, there were endless discussions about peace negotiations with Saladin with King Richard, Robert de Beaumont, Edmund of Cranfield, Henry de Champagne, Carter Leighton of Stretton, and several other people from the king's closest entourage. In the early youth, it became the custom for Robin to have matches in card games with Robert de Beaumont, and today they again played together – the two old friends talking secrets with one another and everyone else.

Blondel continued singing love songs, sitting near King Richard and Henry de Champagne. As the music rhythm changed, Robin escaped to the company of Will, Djaq, and Little John.

Robin smiled heartily. "Djaq and Will, I am happy to see you."

"We couldn't come to the church, but we come here. Well, you know," Djaq said apologetically.

Robin gave a nod. "I understand."

"Thank you," Djaq said pleasantly.

"Congratulations, Robin. All the best to you in your marriage," Will said with a small smile, looking at Melisende and Richard. "She is beautiful."

"Yes, she is." Robin smiled.

"You like her?" Djaq asked, curious.

"I am attracted to her." Robin meant it, because was genuinely fond of his young wife.

"He means it," Little John said.

"Yes, I do. Do you have no words of wisdom for me today?" Robin asked.

Djaq gave him a sweet smile. "Surely, you have already endured a surfeit of those!"

Robin chuckled. "I certainly know what I must do to ensure loyalty to Richard of the barons in Bordeaux. And I definitely know what I cannot allow myself to do as the husband of the king's cousin."

In the next moment, Much appeared out of the blue. He put a hand on Robin's shoulder and burst into a cheerful tirade. "Robin, Lady Melisende is very beautiful! She will be a dutiful wife to you, and you must be a good husband to her! Don't betray her with… other women who are drawn to you like flies to honey. Never ever behave like you did in Limassol, Robin. You are married to King Richard's cousin. You cannot disgrace the king and yourself."

"I am well aware of the responsibility I have before the king and the Plantagenet family," Robin responded sincerely.

"Just be at peace, Robin," John said.

Will looked solemn. "I wish you to forget betrayals and pain. Don't dwell on them; it is not worth it."

Robin's eyes turned cold and piercing. "I gave myself a word that I would forget Marian. Let her be happy with Gisborne if she wants this," he murmured in a steel tone.

"Trust God, Robin. God never leads you to a path that is not meant for you," Djaq mused. "Your past was often not very bright, but I hope that you would find peace. And my own wisdom, for what it is worth, is to wish you to let everything unfold in its own time."

Robin smiled gratefully. "You have always been full of wisdom, Djaq."

"Oh, yes, she is a fount of wisdom," Will agreed. "For this and many other things I do love her."

Carter's voice came as though through a mist, for nobody noticed the young blonde man approaching them from the back. "Robin, I wish that your life is long and happy and rich of events. Let this union be just the beginning of your happiness." He smiled with a crooked smile. His deep blue eyes danced.

Robin looked at all his friends, holding his breath and flattered by their obvious sincerity. His face lit up with a smile full of warmth and boyish charm. "Thank you, my friends. Thank you for everything."

"We are Robin Hood!" Little John cried out.

"What?" Carter was baffled.

"Just say this, Carter," Much prompted.

"We are Robin Hood!" everyone else echoed, except for Robin.

"We are Robin Hood," Robin said after a short pause. A sudden surge of happiness filled his heart; he loved all of his friends dearly and no longer felt himself alone.

The luxurious wedding feast was over. Darkness fell upon Acre, but the Citadel of Acre was bright with a profusion of lights of every description, from candles to torches. The heavens were full of stars, and a slight wind blew the torches that flickered brightly in the warm air outside the castle. A low, distant rumbling presaged a storm in the sea; the air was still and calm but warm and moist; the birds stopped singing and quickly returned to their nests. The ominous clouds were rolling up in the sky at a frightening speed, driven by the north wind from the sea.

Inside her chambers, Melisende waited for Robin to come on the wedding night. The room smelled of jasmine and roses. The bedchamber was decorated in an opulent style, and all was blue and white, except for a pair of red lacquer cabinets which added a warmer note to the environment. The walls were whitewashed, and only one of them hung with blue brocade. Raised up on three steps like a throne, the great mahogany bed hung with rich brocades stood in the corner of the chamber. Several brocade-covered high-back chairs and a brocade-covered sofa stood along one of the walls.

Melisende leaned on the windowsill, fighting off the giddiness which overwhelmed her and staring out as the darkness shrouded the landscape of Acre. She felt her body quivering with mingled fear and anticipation. She was greatly attracted to Robin, and hoped that she physically attracted him. Richard told her that her marriage might have ceased of being purely political, and she wanted it to be true.

She wanted the night to be simple and beautiful, but she had a secret from Richard and everyone – she was not a virgin anymore. She had to tell Robin that there was once a secret lover in her life, who had taught her an art of physical love, and every fibre of her body still trembled even now with intoxicating sensations at the memory of those white-hot nights in Normandy with Robert de Beaumont, whom she thought she loved, in fact merely taking infatuation for love. But tonight it was a matter not only of marriage consummation, but also a matter of deep physical and spiritual attraction she felt for Robin, her love for him that was growing in her heart every day. She feared that her new husband would repent that he had married a woman who had lost her innocence with another man.

Melisende was moved out of her morbid thoughts when the doubled oak doors of her room were flung wide open and Robin, dressed in a long blue brocade robe, appeared at the doorway.

"Melisende," Robin called, his tone quiet and cautious.

She swung around and sank into a deep, gracious curtsey. "Robin," she murmured, her head lowered.

"Please never curtsey to me. I am your husband, not your owner."

Melisende pinned a brooch at the throat of her gown. "I have to tell you something."

The corners of his mouth twitched. "If it doesn't spoil my mood, then do that," he stated mockingly.

"I am afraid it will disappoint you. It is something very serious."

"Pray tell me what is going on in the pretty little head of yours."

"Something is happening."

"Don't fear me," Robin murmured. "Never fear to talk to me."

Breathing a weary sigh of resignation that the time to tell him the truth had come, Melisende hung her head. Her legs felt weak and she sank onto a brocade-covered chair that stood before a dressing-table. "Robin, I… I…" She passed a trembling hand across her face.

"What?" Melisende shivered. His silken, gentle voice spoke from so close behind her that she seemed to feel his warm breath on her neck. She slowly raised her face and saw that Robin stood near her. Then she felt his arm go round her, holding close and drawing her to her feet.

"I… I have to make a confession," she began to speak in a voice so low and so shaking it was a mere whisper. "Robin, I am not a maid."

Robin gave her a long, intensive gaze, contemplating her lovely features in absolute stillness. He was astonished and puzzled, but also strangely relieved that she was so honest and that he wouldn't be the first man for his new wife. After Marian's betrayal, he chronically hated maids. Robin felt heart-rending sadness as his mind drifted back to Marian, for whom he was her first lover but whom she pushed away and instead married his sworn enemy. It was almost comical that the situation in Robin's marriage mirrored that in Marian's marriage to Guy.

Robin laughed outright. "Oh, let me guess. You think that I will be displeased?"

She gave a slight, hesitant nod. "I thought that you would reject me."

He shook his head determinedly. "Never! How did it happen, if you feel you can tell me?"

All her unvoiced agony was reflected in her eyes. "I… I… thought that I loved him and that we would probably be married, but later I realized that I didn't love him and we broke our relations. I know that I did a wrong thing, but it cannot be undone, and I am sorry for that," she said remorsefully.

"Was this man your former betrothed?"

She sighed tearfully. "You know that I was betrothed twice, but Richard dissolved these arrangements. But this man… was not one of them."

"I don't judge you, for I have no right," he said softly. "But I want to know who he was."

She sighed heavily. She was ashamed, bitterly ashamed of what she was going to say, but she had to do that. "He was… your close friend… He was…"

"Who?" His eyes widened in surprise.

"Oh, Robin!" Melisende cried out, blushing furiously. As so many rich emotions overwhelmed her, her face paled with terror, and she began trembling. "I am ashamed of myself. I am so ashamed… He was… Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester."

"Did Robert seduce you?" His voice was tense.

She shook her head. "No, no. I seduced him because I thought that I loved him." She sighed deeply. "He never told me that he loved me. On the contrary, he told me that I didn't love him and that I wronged myself by taking passion for love."

Robin pursed his lips. "And yet, he took your innocence?"

"Robin, please don't hate Robert! I tempted him! I seduced him!" And it was the truth.

"I think I know how it happened." He sighed heavily. "Robert and you had love affair when he was wounded and was sent back home. You must have been together when he was in his estates in Normandy and you were at one of your estates."

She gave a nod. "Yes."

"Robert loves another woman. I know this sad story very well," Robin retorted coldly.

"I know. He told me his heartbreaking love story."

"Even more heartbreaking than my own story," Robin said automatically.

"Oh." She twisted her fingers.

The silence that followed was so absolute that their heartbeats must be heard by everyone.

He eyed her with amusement, rubbing his cheek. "Well, it is unexpected."

Her cheeks turned sheer crimson. "Do you hate me?"

"No, I don't hate you, and I am not ashamed of you." He grinned at her. "I adore your honesty and boldness. You made me proud tonight."

"Are you kidding me?" She looked amazed.

"Melisende, I am not joking. I admire your courage and honesty."

She brightened at his words. "It is unexpected, given that I was with Robert de Beaumont."

With a feathery touch, he traced the lines of her face, admiring the excellence of its form, delighting in the softness of her alabaster skin beneath his fingertips. "We are grown-up people, and we know that we cannot change the past," he murmured.

She gave him a tremulous smile, her eyes large and innocent. "Thank you."

"Welcome." He smiled, but then a shadow crossed his face. "Just one thing."

"What?" Her hand quivered in his.

"Never betray me with Robert," Robin warned, narrowing his eyes at her; his face hardened. His eyes were as hard as granite. "It doesn't matter what happened in the past. But don't forget that Robert is my best friend… among nobles. I love him very much, and I don't want… to lose his friendship."

"Forgive me, Robin," Melisende whispered hoarsely. "I will never betray you, I swear."

"I believe you," he said. "Does someone else know?"

Melisende shook her head, her violet eyes growing stormy. "I don't know for sure, but Leicester and I were very careful. It seems that no one knew about us."

"And Richard doesn't know, does he?"

"No, Robin, he doesn't."

"And he doesn't need to know. We will never tell him," he said comfortingly. "I don't want Richard to be angry with you and Robert." A heavy sigh escaped his lips. "You are my wife, Robert is my best friend, and I want to keep everyone in their places and good graces."

Melisende swallowed hard. "Richard will kill me if he learns the truth."

"He won't kill you, but he will be very angry," he objected as calmly as he could.

She shook her head. "Oh, Robin..."

Robin wrapped his arms around her waist, feeling her body tremble dangerously. Melisende paled, blood rushed to her head and drained away again. She was almost fainting with horror.

"Melisende, you are trembling all over. Calm down, please." His voice was a caressing murmur. "What is done is done. You did nothing wrong, for you thought that you loved Robert. Believe me that I don't care whether you are a virgin or not."

She stared at him incredulously. "Is that really true?"

"If you know me better, you will learn that I hate lying. I am grateful that you told me the truth."

"I will speak the truth, then, always to you."

"Don't be afraid of me. It is our wedding night," Robin soothed softly. "Are you ready to follow me? Night urges us on, and we go forward." He laughed at the momentary hesitation she displayed.

Melisende wanted to say something, but Robin stopped her mouth with such a burning kiss that she almost fainted in his arms. He took her hand and led her gently to the sofa with cushions. Wordlessly she nodded her assent, incapable of withstanding his charm on this enchanted night. He sat there and took her on his knees like a child, and she didn't resist him.

Robin took away the crown of flowers from her head. Then he pulled the pins from her hair, letting it tumble in wild profusion down her back and across her shoulders. Candlelight dazzled her eyes and turned her red-gold tresses to shining copper.

"You are exquisite," Robin murmured in a silken tone. "If Eve was half the beauty you are, it is no wonder Adam couldn't resist her and was doomed!"

Melisende wanted to laugh, and as she caught his eye, she was sure Robin might as well. "Do you feel doomed, too, Robin?" she whispered, drowning in the fierce blue gaze that held hers.

"Yes, I do," he admitted in a deep voice; he wanted her more with every breath he drew.

Robin unfastened the front of her gown, murmuring to her all the while in Norman-French, charming, tender endearments into her ear. Then he bent his head down and began covering with kisses first her neck and shoulders. With trembling fingers, she untied the belt of his robe and touched the warm skin of his chest with her fingertips. She brought her elegant hand up to touch his slim shoulders as he stroked her, his skilled fingers evoking a heightened awareness of every movement he made.

Melisende intercepted the lustful, heated pale blue gaze of her handsome husband, a look that foretold of more great pleasures to come. She didn't care that he had calloused figures from constant archery practice, and she enjoyed the scratch of his stubble against her skin. She just wanted him with her entire being, and the pleasing reality was that he also desperately wanted her.

"We are doomed," Melisende agreed.

Robin looked at her with an awfully lustful appeal in his glowing eyes. "We are more than doomed," he murmured with a curious sense of pride and satisfaction.

In a frenzy of hot, wild kisses, they managed to throw off their clothes until they stood nude, their skin surprisingly pale, as if the blazing sun of the Holy Land hadn't touched them. He lifted her and carried her to the bed. She was on her back, soft cushions beneath her. He kissed her in her lips, and then his lips travelled to her alabaster throat and then to her full breasts, his hands caressing her body. She arched and writhed in pleasure, which his caresses and kisses were giving her.

Melisende looked at the ugly scar at his left side. She didn't cringe at the sight of the wicked scar that cleaved his flesh; then she looked into his eyes. She instinctively put a hand on his left side, but he brushed her hand away. Melisende shook her head disapprovingly, then placed it there again, and this time he allowed her to examine his left side as she traced his muscles and the scar with her fingers.

"Oh, my Lord," she whispered. "Who did this to you, Robin?"

Robin shivered, for any memory of the Saracen attack made him feel uncomfortable. "I was badly wounded, but I saved King Richard." He swallowed hard. "I went to England after… that attack… which was not the Saracen raid in reality." He took her hand away and covered his scar with his palm.

She sucked in a breath as she remembered her conversation with Robert de Beaumont. She understood that it was the scar from Guy of Gisborne's blade.

She uttered a heavy sigh. "This scar doesn't make you less handsome, Robin." She smiled warmly at him. "Wear your scars proudly, for you took this wound to save our king."

His gaze flicked over her, as if determining her sincerity, before he released a heavy sigh. "It doesn't matter for what it was taken. This scar reminds me of my failures and imperfections."

"You are a fool, Robin of Locksley." Melisende laughed at him. "If it doesn't matter to you, it matters to me." She gave him an enticing smile. "This scar makes you even more desirable."

Robin gazed at her in amazement. "Are you entertaining yourself at my expense?"

She laughed at him. "Fool, but such a handsome fool." Her heart lurched in her chest. "I would want you even with three hundred more scars."

Taking an initiative, Melisende wrapped her arms around his back and then kissed him in his lips, and he kissed her back, reveling in the sweetly seductive stroke of his mouth across hers. He kissed her with hunger and passion, sealing his mouth to hers, drinking in her hot breaths, enjoying the fine tremor of her body against his. It was beautiful and humbling, passionate and possessive all at once. It was like ﬂoating at sea, their bodies carried on rolling waves.

Somehow, they managed to get to the bed. Robin loomed above his wife, and then he filled her completely, unable to deny himself a moment longer. For an instant, he fantasized that Melisende was Marian, not the king's cousin, and that prompted him to take her with wild hunger and vehement passion. The pictures of Gisborne holding Marian in a tight embrace flashed in his mind, and every such an image made him seek consolation in his wife's gorgeous body, and somehow the pain of Marian's betrayal lessened.

Before Melisende fell asleep in Robin's arms, she realized how happy she was. Even knowing full well that Robin was a ladies man and had quite many love affairs, she still didn't expect him to be so passionate with her after the revelation about her relationship with the Earl of Leicester. She also was delighted that Robin was such an experienced lover, who could have pleased even the most wanton courtesan in a bed; he was a curious and gentle, passionate and considerate lover, whose passion gave a lingering pleasure before a sudden explosion that could have devastated to the core and then quickly breathed in a new life in. She laughed at herself that she came to appreciate things about Robin that she had never thought possible after the scandal in the garden in the Castle of Limassol.

Robin silently watched Melisende, smiling lightly. Looking at his beautiful wife in his arms, a mass of her red-gold hair streaming down her shoulders to her hips, he somehow felt free of all pain and fears; for the first time in many months, he was able to breathe with full lungs. In spite of gathering storm, he had a strange feeling of freedom welling up inside him. His new wife had a benevolent effect on his spirits, at last he was at relative peace, but he welcomed that freedom, which he was vaguely aware of having since he had left Nottingham so many months ago.

§§§

Sheriff Vaisey and his party rode through the countryside of England to the south. In Portsmouth, they met Prince John's mysterious assassin Archer, who proved his identity by hastily showing the prince's letter, with the Plantagenet royal seal, into the sheriff's face.

They boarded the ship in Portsmouth and crossed the English Channel. From Calais, they undertook a long journey of several weeks to the Mediterranean Sea. They didn't pass Normandy, Aquitaine, and other territories of the Angevin Empire: instead, they traveled through France, Languedoc, Auvergne, and then Provence. They stayed at various local inns, and, as a new morning came, they continued their way, following obscure cross-country roads.

Apart from having Archer in Vaisey's party, there also were nine French mercenaries, each of them a highly skilled fighter with a sword and a bow. Vaisey had hired them in France to feel safer and guard the captives, because he didn't completely trust Gisborne and trusted Archer even less. He didn't plan to use them on the mission of killing King Richard, lowering their roles to be only Marian and Isabella's guards.

Guy of Gisborne always stayed near Vaisey, frequently casting a sidelong, as though casual, glances at the sheriff's two hostages – Marian and Isabella; the ladies were treated poorly, were always shackled and in a grim mood. Guy came to the conclusion that his only chance to save their lives was to kill King Richard, Robin Hood, and, thus, earn the great favor of King John. Then he would have not only Locksley back, but would also be rewarded with the Earldom of Huntingdon.

They reached Provence in five weeks after leaving Nottingham. There, in the south of the mainland and near the sea shore, the cold English weather was left behind and a spring tide, strong and full, carried bright sunshine, warm wind, smell of sun-warmed earth, birdsong and green trees, starry nights, and other elements of countryside beauty in the warm time. Sometimes, the heat was excessive, the sun boiled the travelers, and the horses were bathed in sweat, the horsemen covered with dust.

Somewhere near Marseilles, one of Vaisey's men left the party, and hastened to go and investigate the surroundings. They decided to spend that night at one of the inns near Marseilles. Guy almost dragged Marian from the carriage; she was still shackled and gagged. Guy always tried to watch his wife himself, but under Vaisey's scrupulous gaze as the sheriff clearly didn't trust him.

"Sea air, Gisborne. Sea air. Nice." Vaisey inhaled deeply, a small smile on his face.

"My lord, I have to go," Guy muttered, holding Marian to himself.

The sheriff looked at Marian, narrowing his eyes at her. "Oh, well, relax, my little missy. Give Gizzy a little kiss. Right now. He is your husband. You can do this."

Marian tried to look cheerful but failed miserably. She turned her head away in exasperation, looking at Guy, her eyes pleading for help. Guy scowled at the sheriff, and then at Marian. Simultaneously, screaming and struggling Isabella was taken by two sheriff's men from the carriage; Archer followed her. Unlike Marian, Isabella wasn't gagged, screaming and struggling with her captors.

"The assassin is again with Isabella," Guy spat.

"Gizzy, our assassin fancies your sister," Vaisey smirked, looking at Archer. "Archer, Archy, Archy, do you like this little leper? Oh, you do, I know." He grinned. "She is a pretty little thing! Very pretty!"

Archer ignored the sheriff, looking at Isabella with sympathy. Marian also gave Isabella a sympathetic glance; she somehow felt herself closer to Guy's sister in their shared sufferings.

"Let go of me this instant! Take your dirty hands away!" Isabella screamed.

"Lady Isabella, if you don't stop your hysteria, you will not have a dinner tonight," Vaisey warned with seriousness. "I used to like your fiery temper at first, but now I am fed up."

"How dare you… How dare you… You have no right to treat me like a peasant and a criminal! I am not your prisoner! I did nothing wrong!" Isabella persisted. "I did nothing wrong!"

Archer looked disdainfully at the sheriff, then at Guy. "Lady Isabella deserves a better treatment."

"I know how to treat my prisoners," Vaisey hissed.

"Don't interfere," Guy addressed Archer.

"I don't like when ladies are abused," Archer's steady voice resonated.

"Gisborne's lepers defied me! I will treat them as I wish until Guy changes and we kill the king," Vaisey said a cold voice. "But, of course, my treatment of them will change one day."

Guy eyed Archer. Archer looked very young, several years younger than Robin Hood according to Guy's rough estimate. He was dressed in a white shirt, a brown leather jerkin, dark canvas flat trousers, and boots weathered from long use. Prince John's assassin might have passed for an ordinary man if it hadn't been for the weapons which Archer carried with himself. There were a full quiver of arrows and a recurved Saracen bow on Archer's back; Guy noticed that all of Archer's arrows were red feathered, not white feathered like Robin's. A long curved Saracen sword was sheathed in a silver scabbard hanging from Archer's belt; another short curved sword, freshly polished and gleaming, protruded from his wide belt. Guy wondered whether the man was indeed such a great fighter as they thought.

Archer was a tall brunette with pale blue eyes. His mouth was well-curved and full, his skin was flawless and fair. He had broad shoulders and strong body, but he wasn't very masculine; his figure wasn't as lithe as Robin's, but not as masculine as Guy's. He was a handsome cheeky rogue, flashing devil-may-care, charming smiles and grinning mischievously, his eyes twinkling, his face an epitome of arrogance and naughtiness. He could have been a dashing gentleman if he hadn't behaved so insolently and so brazenly. There was little maturity in his facial expression, but at times his cheeky and roguish personality gave way to instinct gentleness and nobility. There was some restraint in his eyes and demeanor, and he apparently was a sly and crafty man.

Guy left Marian and came to Archer; he gave Archer a murderous glare. "Master Archer, mind your business. Don't meddle into the deals you don't understand."

"She is a lady and, most importantly, your sister," Archer parried.

"I know what to do without you," Guy lashed out.

Archer grinned. "Certainly, you know. You are Sir Guy of Gisborne. You know everything." His grin turned impudent. "Ah, I am sorry! I forgot that there is no Gisborne, if I am not mistaken."

"You are well aware, too well, of many things that are out of your business," Guy retorted back, feeling a murderous anger welling up inside him.

Archer laughed haughtily. "I am more aware of your origins than you think."

Guy wanted to say something, but everyone's attention drifted to Isabella. Shrieking like a fury, Isabella hurled herself upon one of the guards, trying to get either to the sheriff or to Guy, with the ultimate intention of slapping them or scratching out one's eyes. Her attack abashed the guard and everyone else, even the sheriff, so much that Vaisey was unable to throw an insult and Guy had no time to stop her. The guards succeeded in overpowering Isabella at last, pinning her to the ground with both hands clamped fast behind her back. Helpless but by no means resigned, she spat up into her captor's face like an angry cat.

The guards made Isabella stand up. Isabella stared at Guy, her eyes blazed at him in a frenzied paroxysm of rage. "Guy of Gisborne, if you are not a man of honor if you allow these men to treat your wife and a sister so despicably. At least tell them that it is not the right way to treat ladies," she hissed. "These men, the mercenaries, whom the sheriff hired in France, are filthy clodhoppers!"

"You will be fine, Isabella," Guy said soothingly.

"You have an odd way of thinking what is right and what is wrong," Isabella shot back.

The sheriff's men started dragging Isabella inside the building, and, without saying a word, Archer trailed behind them. Guy suspected that Archer would guard Isabella during the night, not for the first time since they had left England. Guy didn't like sudden interest of Prince John's assassin in Isabella.

Guy carried Marian inside the building of the inn. He opened the door with his leg and entered inside the small room. He placed Marian to the narrow bed, on which there were a straw mattress and a blanket. He removed the gag from her mouth and, giving her a small sad smile, swung around and walked to a table, intending to pour a glass of water for her.

Marian sat on the bed, which, she discovered, was very hard. "You will not unshackle me?"

Guy crouched to her and brought a goblet to her dry lips. "I am sorry I cannot. Drink this."

She drank gratefully the water. As he took her goblet away and threw it on the floor, she glanced at him, her brain working hard how to help herself and the king. Each of them was silent, locked in their own thoughts and doing their best to hide their uneasiness.

"Guy, do you really want to kill our king?" Marian asked after a long silence.

"I have to," Guy replied, and his voice was strangely hoarse.

"But you don't want this."

"There is nothing I can do. Richard and Hood will be dead soon."

She jerked her head angrily. "Don't do this."

"Why should I not?"

"Richard is the king." She didn't ask him to spare Robin's life in order not to have an argument with him.

Guy approached the bed and seated himself there, next to Marian, looking into her eyes. "Richard is the King of England, but he is not God. But some people say that a king is subject to no human being as he obtained a right to rule directly from God. They say that a king is subject to God and the Church, and he is irreproachable in all other ways." He laughed. "A regicide attempt or an attempt of king's deposition constitutes a sacrilegious act and contradicts the will of God. Therefore, they reckon that regicide is a grave crime."

"There is much sense in that."

"What?" He growled. "Kings invented this fairy-tale for themselves to make life more comfortable. If you are in opposition to the divine rights of royals, you may be considered a traitor." He smirked. "So, Marian, you think that kings are God incarnates and possess rights to rule, don't you? Thus, kings might not be criticized, abused, deposed, and killed, right?"

"I don't think that kings have divine power," Marian replied. "But an assassination of a king is different from a murder of any other man because a king's station is higher than that of his subjects."

Guy stared at her with a real surprise that gave way almost at once to a mocking smile. "It is the same as an acknowledgment of king's divine rights to rule."

Ignoring the irony in his last words, Marian mastered her anger sufficiently to say coldly, "I have never thought that kings are God incarnates and saints. I certainly don't support the idea that kings have divine power." She paused for an instant. "But I believe that it is not a legal and moral right of any subject to take his king's life because a king is born in a royal family, and, thus, it is his birthright to rule his kingdom. Besides, a subject is not the one who gives power to a king."

He laughed. "If you think that it is a king's birthright to rule, then your opinion is a surrogate of a broader conviction that Kings become Kings because God has chosen them and has given them power."

"You are wrong," she insisted in her most colorless tone.

"No, I am not."

"Fine. Let's leave it where you want it." She let out a sigh of frustration. "And you think that your theory gives you the right to murder the rightful King of England?"

Guy sniffed. "I didn't say that." He leapt to his feet and walked to the table, where a full decanter of wine stood. He refilled goblet for himself, and stalked towards a chair near the window.

She sighed. "At least you don't justify regicide."

"I don't justify myself but I see nothing wrong in that."

"So killing King Richard is not the wrong thing?" she challenged.

"Many kings don't deserve their titles," he said, then drained a goblet of wine and threw it away. "I hate that kings think they are God incarnates, as if they are able to do everything." His tone grew colder. "If they wish, they may destroy lives of everyone who dares displease them. They may take a maiden and ruin her life to pacify lusts of flesh. They may abandon their own people and fight wars in the Holy Land. They may empty the nation's treasury and then impose unbearable taxes and levies. They may murder in cold blood thousands of people by beating to death, beheading, burning alive, or killing unarmed prisoners in the desert. They even have a right to rape, and they commit sadistic murders for pleasure." He gave a brittle laugh. "And they still consider themselves benevolent and rightful lords of their realms."

"Are you talking about King Richard?"

"It is about every King, including King Henry and his son Richard."

She gave her head a slight shake. "But it is about King Richard in particular?"

"Naturally."

"Richard may be not an ideal King, but he is the rightful King of England."

Guy stood up and poured another goblet of wine, then returned to his seat. "At least Prince John is in England, not in the Holy Land."

Marian laughed. "Do you really think that John would be a better King than Richard?"

"Prince John may be better or worse than Richard, I am sorry but I don't care," he said flatly, sipping wine. "It is a matter of power. If John becomes King of England by assassinating King Richard or after Richard's natural death, Vaisey will have absolute power; then he will give me power and wealth." He choked on his muffled laugh. "Maybe I will become a royal favorite, like Robin Hood."

"Prince John is a pretender and usurper of the throne. He has no right to plot King Richard's death. It is high treason. Moreover, it is also a mortal sin to wish death of a blood brother."

"I know, Marian."

"Then why do you criticize King Richard and are so lenient towards Prince John?"

Guy stared at her seriously, his hands clasped on his lap. "I have no love for both King Richard and Prince John. I have always resented King Henry for what he did to my mother and to the Gisbornes; he could have interfered and defended our legal rights for the Gisborne lands he himself had granted to my father, one of his most loyal knights. My father's loyalty to Henry was worth nothing in the end."

"Your disrespect of royal authority is a personal thing, which must be set aside when the country's future is in danger."

"I am sorry, but don't care for any King or country. I have seen what kings are able and willing to do to the people, and I have no respect for any king." His head cocked, his eyes met hers, his gaze sharp. "I am not a fool or an oaf, as the sheriff calls me. I know that Prince John and Vaisey's plots are wrong. I know that John will probably be a worse king than Richard. I understand everything."

She laughed, gladdened by his words. "Then turn against the sheriff."

"I cannot, especially after your failed attempt to kill Vaisey."

Her laughter died in her mouth, strangled in her throat. "Explain."

"If I fail to kill King Richard, Vaisey will kill you and Isabella. Don't you understand, Marian?"

"If you kill Vaisey, nobody will kill me and your sister!"

"Even if I kill the sheriff, there is no way back for me," he said curtly.

Her gaze evolved into a glare. "What?"

"Not after everything I have already done," Guy explained. "I tried to kill King Richard Acre. I spent many years with Vaisey because he promised to help me restore my lands and everything Hood had stolen from my family. I tolerated humiliation and insults from Vaisey only because I envisioned myself a powerful and important man." He shut his eyes, his feelings well concealed behind the cold façade of his face. "It was a long way. I cannot say I like it. This way was wrong. But there is no way back."

"There is always a way back," she contradicted.

His eyes flung open. "No." A laugh followed. "No. Only death waits for me."

"You are wrong."

"Marian, King Richard will execute me for my crimes; but Prince John will give me power."

She eyed him accusingly. "So, you prefer to do wrong things to gain power."

Guy rolled his eyes in annoyance. "No, no. I am just trapped."

Marian dug her nails into her palms in her helplessness and rage. At last she realized that Guy had been not only disloyal to King Richard, but also disrespected the concept of king's divine power and authority. It was caused by the unfortunate affair of Guy's mother with King Henry; the old king's failure to preserve Guy's rights for the Gisborne lands; his personal contempt for the Crusades; and his rational assessment of Richard's policy in England.

"Your lust for power trapped you. But if you do nothing and turn a blind eye to Vaisey's treacherous plots, you automatically become a traitor."

"I am already a traitor to King Richard."

Blinking dizzily, Marian dragged an excruciating breath. "Look at the matter from another angle." She paused for an effect. "Vaisey may not give you power."

"He will," Guy snapped.

"And what if not?" She pressed on.

He bent with a broad smile on his lips. "Vaisey will keep his word he gave me."

"Don't be stubborn, Guy. Assume, for an instant, that Vaisey can deceive you. What then?"

The dark blue flame flared up in his eyes. "I will kill him," he hissed.

Marian rejoiced as her tactic seemed to be working. She met his eyes as if their earlier conversation had never happened. "What if the sheriff kills you before you begin to want to kill him?"

Guy sprang to his feet with a sudden spurt of anger. "What is it? A new game?" He glared at her.

"I am just thinking. Surprised?" She didn't blink.

He shook his head. "No, I am not. I would be hardly ever surprised with you. I know that you are capable of doing many things."

Marian smiled imperturbably. "Just tell me one thing. But please think before you answer. Will you be able to kill King Richard by your own hand?"

Guy's glare turned wintry. A deathlike silence stretched between them. The steel blue eyes locked with the sapphire blue orbs; the duel of blue flames unleashed.

Guy sprang up and began pacing the room, as if he were suddenly possessed by the devil. He was walking slowly, his head sunk on his chest, pondering at once. In a minute or so, he stopped and seated himself into the chair which he had occupied before.

"I don't know," he uttered.

"Think."

Pinned by her insistence, Guy threw her a suspicious look, only to see her coldness amid the flames from the blazing blue eyes. "Oddly enough, I am a kind of relieved that I didn't kill King Richard in Acre last time. I don't know why I feel so."

Marian would have crossed herself if she hadn't been shackled. "You don't want to kill the king."

"Why not?"

"You simply prefer to do nothing. You fear to take an action against Vaisey, even if you know that the sheriff's actions are odious," she asserted.

"Marian!" he protested.

Marian came to him and stood on her tiptoes. She kissed him soundly. He put his arms around her waist and pulled her close. She clung tightly to him, desperate to memorize the feel of his body, the taste of his lips. He kissed her softly, softly, with the kisses of warmth, and she enjoyed the taste of his lips which was all pleasure and danger at the same time. Finally, Guy pulled away and stared at her, his eyes turning deep blue as desire had overcome every fibre of his body.

He reached out for her cheek with his hand. "I love you," he murmured softly. "I want you to love me."

"I… feel the same… when I see the other side of you, Guy, when you are not evil."

Marian smiled at him softly, her hand reaching automatically to brush back the errant lock of black hair that fell across his forehead. She took in Guy's handsome features, feeling proud that her husband was such a handsome man. Guy's dark, lethal handsomeness had always attracted her, his coldness luring her to melt it down with the warmth of her breath and heart. It was often so that she was lost in Guy as she looked into his steel blue eyes, feeling as if she were in a world of dark mysteries, and she thought that she didn't want the sensation to end.

Suddenly, she shuddered as she had a lightning vision of the eyes of the different color – the pale blue eyes, the color of a blue cloudless sky in warm weather. The vision of those eyes was strangely clear, and she instantly knew that she pictured Robin's eyes, not Guy's. Those eyes grinned at her, mischievously and merrily; then they became full of innate tenderness and deep love for her; and then they changed into the frosty orbs of the cruel man who blamed her for hurting him and betraying him.

A sudden vision of Robin's grinning, proud, handsome face emerged in her mind, but it swiftly faded away. The tenderness of Guy's embrace reminded her of the minutes when Robin had been tender and overprotective towards her during their clandestine rendezvous in Sherwood. She recalled the long and lonely nights when she had waited for Robin to return from the Holy Land. Robin seemed to be distant, but he still was with her. Robin's image was engraved into her memory: it was like a scentless flower, a fleeting image in the water, and she still remembered him.

Gazing into Guy's confused eyes, she felt guilty that she had still remembered Robin, but it seemed that she could do nothing with herself. Marian stiffened in his arms, and Guy cast a questioning look at her. She felt her chin tremble dangerously, and she clamped her jaw tightly shut, blinking hard. The image of Robin's pale blue chilly eyes didn't disappear. She was staring at Guy, but for an instant she could see only Robin; then she blinked and Robin's image suddenly was gone.

Strange images of Robin and herself and the visions of Guy and herself, the scenes from the past and the present, passed through her mind, as if in a grotesque dream, and yet it seemed to her that she was not asleep. There were vague, cloudy forms, and strange, unnatural creatures leaned over her and then turned into only two faces – the faces of Robin of Locksley and Guy of Gisborne. Since they had left Nottingham, she remembered Robin more often. She wondered whether it was the effect of their journey to the Holy Land.

"Forgive me," Marian said in a low voice. "I am so sorry."

"For what, Marian?"

"For everything," she whispered.

"I don't understand you, Marian."

A silence hung over them. They silently watched each other.

"Guy, you are a decent man. You are not a killer," Marian said emphatically. She was nervous, and color darkened her cheeks but she looked calm. "Turn against the sheriff. Warn King Richard."

"Ha!" Guy thundered. "King Richard will execute me."

"I don't think so. If you help the king to defeat Vaisey and the Black Knights, he may pardon you."

Her boldness shattered him with a single stroke. "You wish me to betray the man who gave me back everything! You want me to betray the only man who helped me survive in Normandy! "

"And what you will have if King Richard comes back and you do nothing? You will be defeated."

He bit his lips. He got the point. "I cannot lose everything. Not again. I cannot allow Hood, this brat, to win." He turned away. "We cannot lose everything." His voice sounded distant.

"Guy, look at me. You should just kill Vaisey–"

"Enough, Marian."

"Everything is a choice," Marian said. "Haven't you ever regretted your choice to side with Vaisey?"

Guy made a movement of irritation but controlled it at once and sat calmly, his hands clasped on his lap. "I regret many things, many times over, especially the fact that I had to leave Roger de Tosny's service." His tone was remarkably soft.

"Is your service to Vaisey among your regrets?"

Marian regretted her words as soon as they were out. If he began to talk to her about his past, she shouldn't pressure him, showing her impatience. But in her heart she was a prey to all the demons of impatience and curiosity and concern with Guy's life.

"I do regret doing many things for Vaisey, but I am loyal to him," Guy said, half hesitantly this time. "I have to be at the sheriff's side to re-take everything back for the second time because the man who destroyed my life many years ago is still alive."

"You again mean Robin Hood?" Marian's voice held irritation.

"Hood's existence reminds me of everything tragic that happened to my parents and myself," Guy said quietly. "I cannot be happy until he completely repays his debt to me."

Robin and Guy's conflict was like the eternal battle of the light forces and the darkness. Unfortunately, they didn't know that they were only unfortunate victims of cruel fate, while the real culprit of their misery was the man whom neither Robin nor Guy had ever suspected to have an influence over their fates; that man was King Henry II of England, who was dead for many years, though the shadow of his deeds was still equivalent to a double death sentence for both Robin and Guy.

She shook her head in bitter disappointment. "You are talking nonsense. You don't believe in that. Revenge will not make you happy."

Guy fought back the impulse to fly at his wife tooth and nail and make her never speak about Robin Hood again. "I know what I am talking about."

"Guy, may I ask you a very delicate question?"

"Go on."

"You once told me that your mother had an affair with King Henry," she began.

"And?"

"Your mother was married off to Sir Roger at Queen Eleanor's initiative. Is there any chance that a hasty marriage was arranged to hide… something?"

"No, there was nothing to cover. My mother married my father in more than six months after the old King had set her aside. She spent several months in her family's castle, alone and forgotten. All her former suitors were no longer willing to marry her after he had discarded her, while her parents cursed her for her carnal lusts with the king and pushed her to enter a convent."

It was what Lady Ghislane of Gisborne had told Guy, though it wasn't the truth. When young Guy had once asked his mother about her presumed affair with King Henry after he had accidentally overheard the quiet conversation between his parents, Ghislane lied to him: she had told Guy that there had been a break of more than six months between her marriage to Sir Roger of Gisborne and the real end of her relationship with the old king. Very few people knew that she had married Roger in less than two months after the king had discarded her and had humiliated her, and many years passed since she had left Normandy; Guy was unlikely to ever doubt her words and check the truthfulness of her tale.

"I beg my pardon for this question."

"Never mind," Guy said evenly. "Get some sleep. We will get up early and board the ship to Acre," he told her. Then he turned around and left the room, locking it with the key.

§§§

The journey from Marseilles to Cyprus was troublesome and time-consuming. It took more than two months to get to Cyprus as they had to spend two weeks on Corsica waiting for the storms to subside and then one unfortunate week in Palermo waiting for the ship they had boarded on Corsica to be repaired. Days of their voyage dawned clear and bright, offering no relief to the travelers. Everyone lay around listlessly, too tired and monotonous to talk and argue, too irritable to play checkers or cards, too exhausted to discuss the regicide attempt, except for Vaisey who screamed and fumed during the whole journey, cursing the Holy Land, Robin Hood, and King Richard.

Sir Guy of Gisborne shielded his eyes from the sun with his hand and peered out into the Mediterranean Sea, feeling extremely relieved to finally step on the land of Cyprus. Guy, Vaisey, Archer, and others disembarked the ship in the harbor of Limassol and, having deposited shackled Marian and Isabella to the sheriff's guards at one of the inns, headed to a tavern to meet Guy de Lusignan, the King of Cyprus, the spy of the Black Knights.

Vaisey, Guy, and Archer stood outside the small tavern in the harbor. A dim, orange light filtered through the grimy windows. Obviously, there were many low-born people of doubtful reputation and whores seeking for clients there. There were an assemblage of small open shops and a bawdy house near the tavern, too. It was hard to imagine Guy de Lusignan coming to this place.

Guy glanced at the sheriff dubiously. "You are quite sure that we are meeting him here?"

The sheriff cast an angry glance at his henchman. "I know what I do. I am certain that he is here."

"You are not mistaken. I am here," the Norman-French voice behind them came. They turned around and got the sight of the man strolling towards them at a leisurely pace. The man wore long seaboots and was wrapped in a black cloak, his face covered with hood. "I hope I came in time."

"Oh, this is alright." Vaisey laughed. "Let's go inside."

Guy pushed open the door of the tavern, and they entered. They were met by a nauseating reek of alcohol, fried fish and human sweat, together with a confused blether of drunken voices and loud, raucous laughter, mingled with the clinking of mugs and the sounds of strange music. Everything was smoke-filled and the drunker bickering was even louder. Above it all, floated the crude air of a sea shanty.

Guy spotted prostitutes in cheap, daring gowns with outrageously painted faces roamed from a group to group in search of custom. Guy saw one of the whores cling to the man, her arms wrapped about his neck; the chair teetered for a second and then crashed to the floor. Laughter filled the room as the prostitute fell upon the client and put her lips to his in a long, passionate kiss. Guy gave a disgusted grunt. The place seemed terrible even for opportunistic Archer who wrinkled his nose in disgust. Vaisey and de Lusignan only laughed.

"What is it?" Guy de Lusignan asked curiously as they settled at the table in the corner of the tavern. "What are you looking at? This is a place of very ill-repute, a haunt of rogues, pimps and prostitutes."

"Oh? That bad? But I have seen worse in Outremer and in Byzantine Empire," Archer said steadily.

"Well, it seems that you had to visit such terrible places before," de Lusignan continued. "I hate this tavern, but I couldn't meet you in the Castle of Limassol in the splendor of my small court."

Vaisey smiled. "Oh, Monsieur, I understand. No worries."

"I have a lot of news for you, mainly bad." De Lusignan slightly raised his hood and gave a long look at his three companions, Prince John's servants.

"Well, now you have gotten me curious," the sheriff said quietly.

The King of Cyprus let out a muffled laugh. "When Lord Sheridan offered me to side with Prince John, I hesitated because I wasn't sure that the prince would succeed in the end. Now I see that I was right." Then he folded his arms over his chest. "You chose a bad timing for a regicide attempt."

The sheriff laughed and shook his head in mock dismay. "There is nothing that can stop us now, when we are so close to giving England a new King and a new era, golden era, with King John I of England."

Guy and Archer tensed and shared uneasy glances, but then Guy glanced away.

Archer leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs. "Prince John feared that Robert de Sablé would fail, and he ordered that he would go to Acre sooner than we planned. He said that we should go to Acre and take care of his brother before he signs a peace treaty with Saladin."

"You are talkative, Archy, very talkative," Vaisey remarked with a wry grin on his lips.

"Lord Vaisey, you have forgotten that I am Prince John's man, not your guard whom you can humiliate and mistreat without repercussions," Archer assailed, smiling widely and cynically. "Don't push yourself into unlucky position of being my enemy."

Vaisey leaned closer to Archer. "Ah, nice, Archy, very nice! Oh, I like you, my sweet Archy. You are so confident and so proud. But I have known prouder men who broke and learnt obedience."

Archer measured him with a cold glare. "I warned you, Lord Vaisey. You should better be my friend."

Guy was having a devil of a time suppressing a wide grin, and he dared not look at either the sheriff or Archer. He enjoyed that Archer taunted Vaisey; he also envied him that he was free and didn't need to tolerate Vaisey's insults. But they had come there to talk about the deal.

Guy turned his gaze at de Lusignan. "What happened? Why this timing is not suitable to go to Acre?"

"I will wager that you won't be happy to learn that King Richard is expecting to sign the peace treaty with Saladin within one week, if not earlier," de Lusignan informed. "It may also be done by now."

Everyone stared at Lusignan in shock. The only sounds were the laughter of the drunken people and the heavy breathing of the conspirators. Little by little, the silence became oppressive.

"Well, the news is disconcerting. How did the king manage to do it so quickly?" Vaisey asked worriedly.

"Robin of Locksley, the Earl of Huntingdon, foiled the last regicide attempt," de Lusignan reported. "Robin of Locksley and Henry de Champagne allied King Richard with the Hashashin, and Saladin gave his support for that alliance. Locksley unmasked Robert de Sablé's plot and retrieved the Pact of Caen."

"Damn Hood," Vaisey cursed.

De Lusignan nodded. "King Richard has the Pact of Nottingham and the Pact of Caen in his possession. The king has everything against the Black Knights and knows the names of all the traitors."

"What happened to Robert de Sablé?" A smile disappeared from Vaisey's face.

"The Earl of Huntingdon killed Grand Master de Sablé in Masyaf after a long and bloody fight. De Sablé was an excellent swordsman, but Huntingdon proved that he is a better one," de Lusignan informed. "The rumors are that Locksley wounded Grand Master and made him stand on his knees; then he spoke an accusing and passionate speech and beheaded de Sablé as a high traitor."

Guy laughed quietly. "Well, it was quite expected that this regicide attempt would be thwarted."

"I was sure that Robin Hood would kill de Sablé." Vaisey smiled, and everyone caught the gleam of his jeweled tooth in his mouth. "Hood again showed how crafty his pretty little head is! I didn't expect that he would be so theatrical and so cruel to put the defeated man on his knees and kill him." He croaked with laughter. "There is more in Hood than I thought. I would give much to see de Sablé's death."

"He has always been a bloody hypocrite, but in fact a murderer and a thief," Guy spat.

Vaisey rubbed his cheek. "It seems our Hooddie has become bloodthirsty, and he is dangerous."

De Lusignan smiled. "Locksley has always hated all traitors to his precious King Richard. I don't like him, for he is arrogant and righteous, a star in a sky, a pampered King's favorite, but I cannot deny that Robin is a noble-hearted man through and through."

"You admire him?" Archer asked with interest.

"Everyone admires the brave Earl of Huntingdon, Hero of Acre and Robin Hood. You can envy him and dislike him, but you cannot be indifferent to this man. I have never liked him, but I cannot deny that he is a unique man who always makes a difference," de Lusignan explained, a lazy smile hovering over his lips. "He is utterly loyal to the king; he will never betray him."

"But Hood is a pain in derrière," the sheriff said seriously. "Ah! Well, it looks like we will have to kill our little Robin Red Breast in the Holy Land. He will die together with his beloved Richard." He smacked his lips. "They will be our chickens and we will be hunters. We will capture and kill them."

Guy de Lusignan gave Vaisey a skeptical look. "Are you sure that you want to try to kill the king now when the Crusade is almost over? Robin of Locksley and Robert de Beaumont will give you no chance to come close to the king."

The sheriff laughed, his spirits improving. "I am sure more than ever that we will kill King Richard this time. And Robert de Sablé's death is good! I never mind someone dead! Hood gave us a great chance to kill the king and his pretty little outlaw friends by ourselves."

"It won't be easy," de Lusignan noticed.

Archer kept silent, looking at the King of Cyprus, Vaisey, and Guy in turns. He was direct and sharp with Vaisey because he despised the sheriff. He also thought of his long-lost family, whom he had discovered by chance as Malcolm had found him in Constantinople. He pitied Isabella for her troubles and was stunned that Guy endured so much humiliation from the despicable small man with a jeweled tooth. If he had been in Guy's shoes, he would have rebelled against the sheriff a long time ago. But he also thought of Robin of Locksley, whom he hated and despised; he envied that Robin was so adored and admired, so close to the king, and had everything while he, Archer, had been abandoned by their father and had nothing during his whole life.

Guy's eyes darted between the sheriff's smug face and de Lusignan's calm face. Like de Lusignan, he doubted that it would be easy to kill the king now. The latest news that Robin had killed de Sablé didn't make him enthusiastic about killing Richard in Acre when Hood was always near the king and headed the private guard. Guy had once failed in Acre, and it was likely that they would fail again.

"Do you have a plan, my lord? If Hood is bloodthirsty and is always with the king, we may have a serious trouble," Guy said neutrally.

"I always have a plan! Always!" Vaisey cried out, his teeth flashing in a grin.

"If you think that everything is so easy, then you don't look at the situation from another angle." Guy de Lusignan stretched his legs forward. "And I don't recommend that you kill Robin of Locksley, even if you try to kill King Richard."

The sheriff's wry smile instantly transformed into a glare he turned towards de Lusignan. "Prince John craves to see Hood dead. Hood has become too annoying. His death is necessary."

"My lord, I support you." Guy gave a nod to the sheriff.

De Lusignan chuckled. "Prince John won't praise you if you kill the Earl of Huntingdon."

Vaisey waved his hand. "Nonsense. He will be pleased."

"Let him speak," Archer shot back, staring at de Lusignan. "Why should Robin of Locksley live?" He struggled to keep his voice neutral, though his blood started boiling in hatred for Robin.

Guy de Lusignan smiled, pleased that he would be able to bring troubling news to the sheriff, whom he already loathed, though it was the first time when he saw the man. "King Richard arranged a political marriage for Robin of Locksley."

Guy gripped the edge of the table tightly, his knuckles turning white. "Hood is going to marry?"

"Robin of Locksley is a married man," de Lusignan informed. "He married the king's first cousin – Lady Melisende Plantagenet. He became Count de Bordeaux by his marriage. The grand wedding took place in Acre more than two months ago. It was a purely political marriage."

"Political marriage?" Guy's mood improved at the revelation that Robin was no longer a free man. He remembered the rumors he had heard at the royal court in London from William Marshal, the Earl of Pembroke, and his wife Isabel de Clare; he was again impressed with Marshal's shrewdness and sharp mind as the man had guessed correctly that Lady Melisende Would be married off to Robin of Locksley.

De Lusignan gave a low chuckle. "It was necessary for King Richard to assure the loyalty of the lords in Aquitaine and partly in Normandy. I mean the loyalty of those nobles who looked sideways at the king and with delight at Prince John. Richard needed this marriage to prevent potential unrest among his nobles, and he married his grand favorite off to his cousin."

"I see," Guy said, recovering from the initial shock.

Archer narrowed his eyes. "And Locksley agreed?"

"Locksley will do everything for his king," de Lusignan continued. "Many of those lords also were unhappy to be vassals to Lady Melisende and then to Eleanor of Aquitaine and then to Richard; they said that Lady Melisende was just a young woman, not a capable man, and there was another doubtful matter with the inheritance of County of Bordeaux there, but I don't know about that in details."

"The political impact of this union is rather large," the sheriff surmised where de Lusignan was going.

"Very large," de Lusignan retorted. "As a result of this marriage, the king's vassals from Aquitaine, especially from Bordeaux and the nearby lands, and some lands in Normandy, are currently swearing their fealty to Robin of Locksley, and they are doing this eagerly and delightedly, as far as I know. This marriage pleased many nobles, who had been quite discontent with the long absence of King Richard. As you understand, most of the Black Knights from Aquitaine and Normandy switched sides, and now they again support King Richard."

The sheriff gave a little smile, amazed. "Blah-di-blah-di-blah! This is a good strategic political move to ensure the loyalty of those lords by marrying his most trusted servant to his blood cousin."

Guy rubbed his cheek. "I have never thought that the Lionheart is so politically astute."

De Lusignan gave the sheriff a long look. "I suspect that this is not King Richard's idea. This is Eleanor of Aquitaine's political move to prevent the unrest in the Angevin Empire and give her precious Richard a great advantage over John. I have heard that the Queen Mother also arranged beneficial political marriages for the Earl of Leicester and Andre de Chauvigny, the king's beloved and trusted supporters; these unions will be like Locksley's marriage: they will ensure loyalty of many lords to the king and stability in the Angevin Empire; they will marry after their return from Acre."

Archer rolled his eyes. "The king's cousin? Locksley must be chocking with luck."

"The arrogant brat is too full of himself," the King of Cyprus acquiesced. "I am sure Locksley is now prouder and more arrogant. After all, King Richard elevated him higher than many other nobles, even the Earl of Leicester, though temporarily higher than him; Leicester will also become Count de Cholet through his future marriage." He chuckled. "Locksley is holding the Earldom of Huntingdon and County of Bordeaux through his marriage; he also received many estates in Aquitaine, Normandy, and Anjou."

Guy narrowed his eyes, and he drawled mockingly, "Robin Hood is the savior of the poor, and now he has such great riches and lofty titles."

Archer's eyebrow flicked upward in cynical mocking. "Oh, I wouldn't care about the lady's titles and estates if she were ugly and unattractive."

De Lusignan laughed. "Lady Melisende is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen in my life."

"Then Locksley is a very lucky man." Archer envied Robin. "These royal favorites are extremely lucky men… so many castles and titles, while others have nothing!"

"Archy, you are envious? Don't be a bad boy!" Vaisey teased.

"It is not your deal, Lord Vaisey," Archer snapped.

De Lusignan shrugged. "Well, the Earl of Huntingdon and the Earl of Leicester have always been in King Richard's highest favor. I am not astonished that good marriages are arranged for them."

Sheriff Vaisey called the servant girl and gave her a coin. She smiled and in a minute brought four cups of ale and some snakes for the four men who were waiting in silence.

"Prince John is not pleased with Hood's marriage, I guess." Guy took a cup of ale and made a small sip.

"Well, Prince John didn't know the news about the marriage in Acre when he dispatched you to kill the king, but I assure you that many things have changed. The prince will get the news in a month or so, I suppose," de Lusignan said confidently. "Now you understand why Prince John will not be happy with Robin of Locksley's death. Huntingdon is married to the king's cousin, also Prince John's cousin."

The sheriff looked troubled, but then he masked his anxiety with a wry smile.

"And what?" Archer didn't touch his ale, for he simply had never liked it.

Guy de Lusignan broke into a loud laugh, in a sort of a mournful way. "And you don't understand, do you?" He emptied his cup of ale, then slammed it on the table. "It is very simple! If Huntingdon dies, particularly if he is killed by heroically saving King Richard, it may lead to political unrest in Aquitaine. Queen Eleanor's vassals will alienate from Prince John even more and the prince doesn't need that."

The sheriff gave a self-conscious smile. "Of course, it will not make Prince John more popular."

"Prince John loves Lady Melisende very much, and he will not want to hurt her," the king said. "I am sure Richard arranged this marriage for Locksley to make his standing more secure."

Vaisey responded with a loud laugh. "Oh, oh, oh! I care only about Prince John's deals, not about the heart of the poor heartbroken widow. Hood's royal leper wife will survive if we kill Hood." He laughed again. "Find me a woman who wants to be married to a dead hero and I will show you a woman who is unhappily wed. Dead men provide no comfort or love to lepers."

"The timing for the regicide attempt is not very good," de Lusignan pointed out.

"This time is excellent! It is high time to kill King Richard and Robin Hood, if it is necessary," Vaisey countered. He turned his head and gave a fierce glare to Guy. "This is your fault, Gisborne. You are an incompetent idiot. You and your boy, who ran away, are at fault! You failed Prince John and me. You know what I mean Gisborne! Queen Eleanor must have been subdued a long time ago." He meant that they had failed to find the Queen Mother's golden boy.

Guy cringed. "My lord, this is not my fault… We were looking for a needle in a heap of hay. We–"

"Shut up, Gisborne! I don't need your justifications! I need result!" Vaisey screamed. "You don't have to think – you must only carry out my commands, nothing more. You failed me again."

"My lord, I…" Guy didn't know what to say.

"Be careful, Gisborne." The sheriff leaned towards Guy and hugged him, as if it were a gesture of friendly affection. Then he said into his henchman's ear, "You know what will happen if you don't kill the king." He lowered his voice to a hissing sound of a serpent. "I will kill your lepers, both of them." He drew back, then waggled his finger at Guy as if his henchman were a disobedient child. "Gizzy, don't fail me in Acre. Don't make me teach you a hard lesson."

The sheriff and Guy looked into each other's eyes for a long moment. Vaisey chuckled, his expression showing his superiority. Guy was serious, his jaw clenched, his teeth gritted.

Guy craved to take a cruel revenge on Vaisey for insulting Marian and himself, but he knew that he had to keep silent in order to avoid negative consequences for Marian in the first place. He knew that the sheriff had never liked Sir Edward Fitzwalter and Marian and had always suspected their true allegiances. He couldn't let Marian bring more harm upon herself if he or she betrayed Vaisey; he had to protect her.

"I understand," Guy said quietly.

"Good, my boy," the sheriff said, turning to face de Lusignan. "So you, Monsieur, still don't recommend that we go to Acre and make the king roar like a wild lion?"

"No, I don't," de Lusignan confirmed. "The king has almost made peace with Saladin. You are highly likely to fail." He smirked darkly. "And if you fail, then King Richard will roar like a lion but in rage, not in pain. Then he will show you his heart of the lion."

The sheriff laughed. "The king will never win. I will have England. I want to see myself the heart of King Richard – I want to know whether the king indeed has the heart of the lion." He chuckled. "You, Monsieur, are a traitor to Prince John."

"Oh," de Lusignan said, deflated. "I am giving you a good advice. I told you the truth."

The sheriff stood up and strode towards the chair where de Lusignan sat; he stopped and dropped his hand to the hilt of his sword. "What do you think I should do with traitors to Prince John if they don't agree with me that the timing for our triumph is right? I am so close to have England! Use your common sense, Monsieur." He smiled widely. "You can guess what I am going to do."

Guy de Lusignan jumped to his feet. "You want me dead!"

The sheriff sniggered. "Well, yes, I suppose so," he conceded. "I will not deny that."

Vaisey tightened his hand on the hilt of his sword; he swiftly drew his sword and then plunged the blade into de Lusignan's chest. The King of Cyprus reeled backward; torrents of blood spurted from his wound like a fountain, and he was almost choking with hot, crimson liquid, struggling for every breath. De Lusignan tumbled to his knees and dropped on his back, his eyes shut; he was dead.

Sheathing his sword, the sheriff turned away with a curse that would have caused a sailor to blink. Guy and Archer were moving towards the sheriff and the corpse, their faces white in horror.

"Why did you do that, Lord Vaisey?" Archer asked, his voice shaking.

"My lord…" Guy looked at the sheriff in amazement.

"Look, boys, how Kings die! Look and learn." Vaisey smiled earnestly as though nothing happened and he hadn't killed in cold blood. "The king is dead! Long live the king!"

"He was working for the Black Knights," Guy muttered, looking at the pool of blood on the floor.

"He outlived his usefulness," the sheriff barked. "We must go."

An absolute hush fell over the tavern as many visitors looked at the three men standing near the corpse, and then a buzz of whispers started to fill the silence. A shocked servant who was walking by with a tray of drinks dropped it on the floor. Music stopped, and every pair of eyes stared at Vaisey and his companions. Then someone screamed something about the murder, while prostitutes broke into tears and entreaties. Some people began to walk towards them.

Vaisey only laughed. He surprised everyone and gave a large purse of golden coins to the people who approached them; then he ordered Guy and Archer to leave the tavern.

The sheriff spun around and stormed out of the tavern; he marched to the docks, Guy and Archer close behind. It was already dark by this time and only torches on the buildings here and there served to illuminate the harbor. They didn't talk and only followed Vaisey, everyone locked in their own thoughts. They stopped only near the inn where Marian and Isabella had been deposited before.

"We are sailing to Acre right now," Vaisey declared.

Archer looked at the sky; then he swung his gaze to at the bay. "We will sail right into the storm."

"Yeah, the storm?" The sheriff laughed. "I don't care about the storm. We must be in Acre as soon as possible. We must try to kill the king before he signs the peace treaty with Saladin. We will be in Acre in several days if we sail right now." His face turned serious. "And even if we fail to do this before the peace treaty is signed, we have to kill the lion before he leaves the Holy Land."

"What about Guy de Lusignan?" Guy's voice sounded oddly unfamiliar, for he felt almost numb from shock.

"Oh, Gisborne, you have nothing to worry about. I have thought out everything," the sheriff said with a sour smile. "De Lusignan was disguised. Nobody will recognize him as the King of Cyprus before his cloak is removed. I paid for their silence and letting us get away. But when they recognize who he is, the commotion will escalate. His death will be _our secret in the darkness_."

Bewilderment leapt alive in Guy's eyes. "My lord, he was on our side."

Vaisey snarled, and then grabbed Guy's shoulders. "We have to leave, Gisborne, and right now. We are very close to power and we will get it. Get a hold of your emotions. I need you, my boy."

Guy looked lost. "My lord, I am…" He stuttered; bewilderment was now replaced by sheer shock.

Vaisey stared back at him, hands on hips. "Don't provoke me, Gisborne."

Guy hesitated, but then the moment was past and he knew it. "I am sorry, my lord."

"I want to experience the delight of killing the king! King Richard the Lionheart is sentenced to death!" Vaisey said, drawling every word, savoring the moment as if he were a judge handing down a verdict.

"Very gallant of you, Lord Vaisey, to sentence to death the King of England and anyone else when you have no power to do it," Archer snarled at the older man.

The sheriff's eyebrows rose. "Your surprise me very much, Archy. What is going on in your little empty head? Prince John hired you to kill King Richard because Lord Sheridan and the prince were impressed by your fighting skills. I also know that you had been interested in the contract on capturing and killing Robin Hood in England before we learnt that Hood had run away to his precious King. Now you have a chance to kill the king and Hood."

"I am not repudiating the contract," Archer countered.

Guy regarded Archer with interest. "But the circumstances have changed."

"Maybe," Archer agreed, hesitating for the first time since he had learnt the truth of his birth.

"Shut up, you idiots!" Vaisey shouted. "We are sailing in an hour! Bring Gisborne's lepers on the ship."

They sailed from Limassol to the open sea, into the darkness and soaking in the heavy rain. Just as the wind snapped the sails into service, the little vessel slipped slowly out of harbor from between the two approaching ships, which hurried to cast anchor in Limassol and wait for the storm to abate. The storm was building in its strength, but the sheriff fumed that they should have increased the speed and kept going forward. The shores of the Holy Land lay somewhere ahead, swaddled in a fatal veil of death and sodden with blood spilled by the Christians and the Saracens in those lands.

* * *

><p><em>I hope you truly enjoyed this chapter and the plot.<em>

_I am sorry for a delay in an update, but real life was hectic and I had no time to do it earlier._

_In this chapter, there is a small love triangle that includes Robin, Melisende, and Robin's close friend Robert de Beaumont. My dear funnygirl00, I want to congratulate you, for you were right when you noticed in the first part of Quintessence that there was something intriguing between Robert and Melisende. It is not a triangle because Melisende and Robert are only friends and their relationship is over, but they still were very close and had deep affection for each other._

_Melisende Plantagenet is not as white and ideal as she may seem to someone at first glance; she has some secrets about her past, though she makes a confession to Robin on the wedding night. Why do I need it? Melisende was born in Aquitaine, she grew up at the royal court in Poitiers, and she is a character who is somewhat similar to Eleanor of Aquitaine. Ladies from Aquitaine were influenced by the art of troubadours and Aquitanian highly cultured environment, so it is highly likely that Melisende could have taken lovers. And, truth be told, I am not very fond of "pure" and dull maidens, for they seem to lack some conflict of personality while I like bring sensitive drama into the plotline._

_Vaisey, Guy, and others continue their journey to Acre. As you see, more people will participate in the regicide attempt on King Richard's life than on the show. The framework is different, but there will be some spoilers from the end of season 2 when the sheriff attempts regicide._

_Finally, I brought Archer into the picture, which I promised to do a long time ago. Archer is portrayed as someone between Robin and Guy: he is not as honorable, high-minded, and altruistic as Robin is, but he is not as practical, cruel, full of conflict, and dark as Guy is. So far, Archer hates Robin and wants to take his revenge on his older half-brother for having everything while he had nothing and grew up in poverty. Yet, he is hesitating and he despises Vaisey._

_Marian makes another attempt to persuade Guy not to kill the king, but she fails. At least now Marian understands that Guy doesn't want to kill the king, but he feels that he is trapped: he is trapped by Vaisey who pressures him to kill Richard and he is trapped by his own past transgressions because he is already a traitor to King Richard. And Guy certainly has nothing to thank King Henry for because the old King once seduced his mother and because Roger of Gisborne's loyalty to the king didn't help him and Guy was dispossessed. Of course, Guy doesn't know the truth yet about his true relationship with the king and he still hates Robin, blaming him for all his misery._

_The sheriff, Guy, and Archer meet Guy de Lusignan, who was the King of Jerusalem from 1186 to 1192 by right of marriage to Sibylla of Jerusalem, and of Cyprus from 1192 to 1194. In chapter 9 in the first part of Quintessence, Lord Walter Sheridan announced on the assembly of the Black Knights that he had managed to bring Guy de Lusignan on their side and make them their spy. I needed Vaisey to meet de Lusignan because the sheriff must know that the king has almost achieved peace in the Holy Land; it changes something in Vaisey's plans and he becomes more desperate._

_Moreover, I also planned to have Guy de Lusignan killed by Vaisey because it is the king's murder and in some way it serves as a test for Archer and Guy, who are shocked with the sheriff's actions – Vaisey easily killed the rightful King of Cyprus and one of the Black Knights. In this story/novel, the time of Guy de Lusignan's death almost coincides with the date of his death in real history: Guy de Lusignan died on 18 July 1194, while in this story Vaisey kills him in end of July 1194; the regicide attempt in Acre will take place at the beginning of August 1194._

_This chapter is the last "quiet" chapter before the drama in Acre begins. Chapters 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, and 9 are very dramatic and full of emotions, angst, and mental anguish because the events in the Holy Land are shocking and tragic. Chapters 4, 7, 8, and 9 are the most turbulent and dramatic chapters. I warned you that I cannot guarantee that everyone will survive in the Holy Land._

_The next chapter is overemotional and highly important for Robin of Locksley and King Richard. Maybe I will be able to post it very soon, maybe immediately after the New Year, for I will have enough time to do that, but I am still waiting for the edited version of the chapter from my cousin. I will be travelling, but I will have access to Internet._

_Did you like this chapter? Please tell me the truth. I always welcome civil discussions and critique._

_By the way, I uploaded one-shot "A lesson of killing" about Guy and the sheriff; fans of Guy may check it. This oneshot is a standalone story, but it is also an additional scene to Quintessence. This scene is not a part of Quintessence, but there is a reference to these events in chapter 11 of part 1, when Guy tells Marian about his life in Normandy after his banishment from Locksley; he also tells her about his first meeting with Vaisey and the events which prompted him to become the sheriff's squire._

_Have a beautiful and merry Christmas! Share the spirit of peace and happiness on this day with your acquaintances and loved ones. Many people say that Christmas fills the world with the magic of believing, and I wish you to have a joyous Christmas and a bright and beautiful New Year!_

**_Reviews are always appreciated, including well grounded criticism._**

_If you find any typos and/or mistakes here, please let me know about them in a private message. _

_Thank you for reading this chapter. Have a lovely weekend._

_Yours faithfully, Penelope Clemence_


	5. Chapter 4 The Bitter Truth

**Chapter 4**

**The Bitter Truth**

More than two months passed since the wedding of Robin and Melisende. Many things changed since then. The Crusaders continued working hard and relentlessly for peace, and King Richard was happy that Sultan Saladin graciously accepted the offer to begin peace negotiations in several weeks. Everyone was so tired of endless bloody holy wars that they felt as though their lives had depended on making peace with Saladin, which would transform the dark times to blinding white.

Saladin sent to Acre as his representatives two men – Prince Al-Afdal, his eldest surviving son and heir, and Prince Malik, Saladin's nephew. King Richard was represented by Sir Robin Fitzooth of Locksley, the Earl of Huntingdon; Sir Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester; Monsieur Henry de Champagne, Count de Champagne and King of Jerusalem; and Sir Carter Leighton of Stretton, Baron Clifton.

Two rows of Saladin's security guards stood outside the tent occupied by Prince Malik and Prince Al-Afdal, forming a path with swords and lances to the opening of the tent.

Robin and his friends dismounted, and the Saracen guards hustled to take their horses and lead them away. They unbuckled their swords as custom dictated, then handed them over to Saladin's guards. Surprisingly, they were told that they could keep their weapons, which probably was a sign of trust between the king's men and the two princes.

King Richard's representatives entered the tent, roaming their eyes over the luxurious Arabic splendor. In the dim light, they saw two young Saracen men – Prince Malik and Prince Al-Afdal, who stood in the middle of the tent, welcoming their Christian guests with warm smiles.

The Saracen royals were clothed in rich Arabic robes, which were made out of deep ruby silk and were elaborately embroidered with gems and jewelry stones; white turbans adorned their heads, and Saracen curved swords hung at their sides. Everything about the two princes marked them as lords or princes: their proud bearing and posture, their extraordinary mannerism, the rich clothes they wore, and their handsome and strong features showing regal authority.

"Praise be to Allah, the lord of the universe," Prince Al-Afdal began in a majestic voice. "In the name of Allah, the lord and giver of mercy, and Mohammed his prophet, peace be upon him, we welcome the representatives of King Richard the Lionheart here."

The king's men bowed deeply to the Saracens.

Prince Malik hurried to meet the Crusaders and approached Robin at first, taking both his hands as if they were old friends, not enemies, meeting after a long separation. "Robin of Locksley, I am glad that we have another chance to meet each other," he said in English, his Arabic accent very distinguishable.

Robin of Locksley bowed to the prince, smiling brightly. "Malik Yūsuf ibn Ayyūb, I am happy to meet you here." He genuinely liked the prince since their first meeting in Nottingham.

Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, bowed to the princes. "Malik Yūsuf ibn Ayyūb, I am more than happy to meet you." His eyes flew to Al-Afdal. "Al-Afdal ibn Salah ad-Din, I have to say that our meeting is a pleasant surprise. We are happy that you returned home, to your esteemed father, alive." He grinned. "It is good that our second meeting is happening in a better environment."

Prince Al-Afdal laughed. "Certainly, it is much better to negotiate the terms of the treaty than to die in the desert."

The Crusaders looked at Robert with silent question. Only Robin smiled knowingly.

Robert smiled smugly. "Well, I once saved Prince Al-Afdal's life. Like Robin, I am the savior of the Saracen prince," he informed proudly. "It happened when Robin was in England."

Robin grinned sheepishly. "Robert, it means that we are the two saviors of the princes."

Prince Malik smiled back. "Indeed."

"Undoubtedly, they are our two saviors." Prince Al-Afdal let out a brief laugh. "Lord Leicester saved my life in the open desert when Robert de Sablé's treacherous men tried to kill me and my guards," he explained. "I don't want to remember that, which is why you don't know about it."

Prince Al-Afdal and Prince Malik greeted the King of England's party with a greater heartiness than any of them could have expected. The Saracen princes only smiled at the astonished faces of their Christian guests. Prince Malik pointed his finger at the massive of multicolored pillows scattered across the floor behind a low wide table. They settled comfortably there, reclining comfortably among soft cushions.

"Do you want to hear our terms?" Prince Al-Afdal questioned.

"Yes, we do," Robin confirmed, a smile hovering over his lips. "We have come here in the name of King Richard the Lionheart and with a heartfelt desire to end this war that has continued for so many years. We will listen to your terms of peace, and we will respect and consider your demands."

Stretching his long legs on the floor, the Earl of Leicester stared at the prince. "Our king hopes that our negotiations will be brief as we seem to understand each other's needs and demands very well. Anyway, please tell us everything, without evasion, for nobody needs this war to continue any longer."

"This war must end," Prince Malik agreed. "That's why we have gathered here today."

"King Richard wants peace, and so does Saladin. We all want peace in the Holy Land. From our side, we are interested in the most urgent resolution of the matter," Henry de Champagne said flatly, his face straight and serious. "We don't wish to exchange empty promises and discuss impossible terms."

"Quickly and effectively," Carter of Leighton summarized their objectives.

"Let it be so then," Al-Afdal replied, smiling at them.

"Allah wills it," Malik said with a smile.

"Then we shall begin," de Champagne said.

Prince Malik looked at Robin and smiled with genuine warmth at him. "Before we start, I want to pass to all of you Saladin's warmest regards and best wishes to the brave and glorious King Richard." He paused, his eyes darting between Robert and Robin. "My uncle Saladin also asked me to pass to the Earl of Huntingdon and the Earl of Leicester his warmest regards and thanks for saving my life in Nottingham and saving Al-Afdal's life in the desert."

Prince Al-Afdal smiled. "My father said that he admires and loves Sir Robin and Sir Robert even though he saw you both only in a distance on the battlefield."

Looking ever so much like a mischievous cherub, Robin smiled at the two princes. "You 'don't have to thank us. Please pass to Saladin our best regards and warm greetings from our king."

"We will," Al-Afdal agreed, imps of mischief lighting his hazel eyes. "Now I believe we should begin."

Robin nodded. "All cities can be conquered, and Jerusalem is not exclusion, but not all cities can be held as easily as they can be taken," he said in a steady voice. "Therefore, we don't plan to conquer the holy city, and we do request only safe and free passage for Christians there."

The negotiations went smoothly. There were no heated discussions of the peace treaty, for both sides knew what they wanted. As the evening closed silently around Acre and deepening darkness brought fresh cooling sea breeze that came to blow away all frustrations of the day, the truce for three years. If the Prince of Antioch and the Count of Tripoli desired, they could have also been included in the treaty.

In accordance with the peace treaty, the Crusaders kept all the lands along the coast from Tyre to Jaffa. It was agreed that Christians could have a free passage through the land of Palestine and to Jerusalem. However, only pilgrims having King Richard's banner could have been granted a safe passage to the holy city; the French Crusaders were not given an opportunity to visit Jerusalem. The Third Crusade was over, and pilgrims could start making visits to the holy city and its shrines. The kingdom of Jerusalem was finally re-established officially.

Although Robin, Robert, Henry, and Carter implored the King of England not to make any restrictions for the French, Richard rejected all their rational arguments and pleas. The Lionheart was infuriated and felt betrayed by Philippe's treacherous actions: the King of France was attacking Richard's lands in Normandy, and it was rumored that the man had allied himself with Prince John to murder King Richard and then divide the lands of the Angevin Empire between each other.

The Crusade had begun on a bright note for King Richard and King Philippe, who had been allies and had organized their own expedition in the Holy Land to liberate Jerusalem. Without the aid of the English and French Crusaders, who had arrived in the autumn of 1189, Guy de Lusignan's attack on Acre would have been a futile gesture, and it had probably been the coming of King Richard and his great generals – Walter Sheridan, Robin of Locksley, Robert de Beaumont, Andre de Chauvigny, Roger de Lacy, and several other capable men, as well as Henry de Champagne and Hugh de Burgundy from the French side – which made the eventual capture of the city certain. Nevertheless, at present the initial role of the French soldiers in the Crusade didn't matter, for the relations between Richard and Philippe were damaged forever, and the lion wasn't going to make concession and gifts to the French.

"Melek-Ric has many great servants," Prince Al-Afdal proclaimed as he signed the treaty and stamped it with Saladin's personal seal. Then he ran his eyes over the Crusaders. "Robin of Locksley, Robert of Leicester, Henry de Champagne, Carter of Stretton, you all are heroes of your countries and the most loyal subjects of your king. I am delighted to meet you today."

Prince Malik glanced over the representatives of King Richard. "All of you worked for peace tirelessly and devotedly. You all contributed a great deal to the achievement of peace in the Holy Land. May Allah and your God bless you for bringing peace into these lands!"

"I feel the same way," the Earl of Leicester admitted.

"Although I am not entirely satisfied with the results of these negotiations, I am glad that the Crusade is over," Henry de Champagne said sadly.

Robin looked sadly at de Champagne. "I am sorry to disappoint you so much, Henry, but I want you to believe me that I did everything I could. I talked to the king and begged him to change his opinion and decision, but he didn't want to make any concessions to King Philippe's men and vassals. "

At Robin's sad expression, Henry smiled cheerfully, an impish twinkle in his eyes. "It is not your fault or anybody's fault. King Richard, my Uncle, is not easily swayed from his course. He is a great leader, but he doesn't change his direction if he has already set something in his head."

Robin smiled gratefully at de Champagne. "Thank you for understanding, Henry."

"Oh, our king is very stubborn," Leicester admitted jovially.

"This meeting was both pleasant and productive," Carter said.

"I am happy that we have made peace, but I am deeply sad that we have to part our ways now, with all of you." Al-Afdal's expression was sorrowful. "May you go with peace."

"God save you on your way to your home," Prince Malik said sincerely.

The king's men also bowed to the prince in silence since there was nothing more to say; then they turned around and left the tent. Robin also bowed and wanted to leave, but he felt a hand gripping his forearm; Prince Malik asked him to stay for a while. At the same time, the Earl of Leicester was engaged in a lively conversation with Prince Al-Afdal.

"If God brought us together at a different moment, then you and I would have much to discuss, Robin of Locksley," Prince Malik said, smiling brightly at Robin.

Robin smiled back. "Yes, but we don't have time now, for we are leaving Acre in several days. So I am afraid that our conversation will be a brief one."

"Unfortunately, Al-Afdal and I have to depart back to Damask and then to Jerusalem, to my uncle Saladin," Prince Malik pointed out. "You of all people should know how Saladin and his emirs value time, and I cannot allow myself to stay in Acre even for several days to spend them with one of the most extraordinary man I have ever met."

Robin nodded. "You are exaggerating, Malik."

"No, I am not, Robin," Malik objected, sending Robin a smiling look. "If you didn't save me from the Sheriff of Nottingham, I am not sure that I would be here now. And my high opinion of you requires me to personally thank you for saving me and helping me in England."

Robin didn't reply for some time, his hand clasping his own wrist; then he spoke, his tone low. "Every time I save people's lives I feel that I am doing the right thing. I can't explain that any better than that. Perhaps God is guiding my action. Perhaps I feel that I cannot let innocents die."

"There is something great in you, Crusader," Malik began, slowly and contemplatively. "You did so many great things for your king. And I know that you did many amazing things for your people in England. You saved your king's life so many times. You saved my life. You saved very many lives. I believe you are a God's warrior." His eyes flew to Leicester. "Your beloved friend, Lord Leicester, is also a God's warrior. He also saved many lives, including Al-Afdal's life."

Robin felt a feeling of guilt nesting in his stomach. He again chose the King of England over the people and abandoned the people of Nottingham to fulfill his sacred mission – to save the king from the Black Knights and Prince John. A feeling of guilt plagued him since he had departed from Nottingham to Portsmouth and had sailed to Acre. His only consolation was that he had been officially pardoned and that his noble status had been reinstated; he was sure that his friend Roger de Lacy was effectively administering his lands well and was taking care of his people.

More than seven years ago, Robin had deserted his people because he had dreamed of conquering the Holy Land for Christians; but later he had realized that the Holy Land belonged to everyone – to the Christians, Jews, and Saracens. Now he left his people out of loyalty to the king again, but not for glory and because of his dreams to liberate Jerusalem from the heathens. And yet, Robin still had to sacrifice his people's interests for the king's sake; he was guilty, and he knew that. Robin wondered whether there was any possibility to find the balance between serving the king and serving the people, but he had no answer to that question. The achievement of such a golden balance seemed to be founded upon ideals and dreams; he had too many dreams in his life, which were destined to remain only dreams.

Robin squeezed Malik's hands. "You exaggerate; but I value your high opinion of me."

"I am rational and fair, Robin of Locksley. It is not so hard to figure out what you have done for England and for Melek-Ric, and how many people were saved by you," Malik replied in admiration.

"I am glad that you are alive and in good health." Robin smiled, almost modestly to his own surprise; he was proud that he had saved Saladin's nephew. "Now I bid you farewell, Malik. I leave you in God's grace and peace," he added, bowing deeply and respectfully.

§§§

The great banquet was arranged in the Citadel of Acre to celebrate the achievement of peace in the Holy Land. King Richard, the Crusaders, and many churchmen sat at the high table, enjoying a feast of beef stew, marrow tarts, and stuffed capon and listening to loud cheers of the Crusaders.

Melisende smiled at Robin with a slow, enchanting smile, and he smiled back at her, a smile of such warmth, of such tenderness, that her heart lurched in her breast. She looked at him, her expression slightly astounded, but Robin only laughed, a fierce, exultant joy sweeping through him as he saw in the lovely violet eyes of his young wife the naked hope to be together with him.

Melisende was looking at King Richard who was conversing with Lady Isabella of Jerusalem and Count Henry de Champagne. Suddenly, one of Isabella's ladies-in-waiting came to them and smiled at her mistress, as well as the King of England. Then Isabella and her lady went away, leaving the king with de Champagne in a lively discussion, no doubt, about the signed peace treaty with Saladin.

Melisende took a goblet of wine and made a small sip. "Women like Richard."

Robin sipped wine, grinning sheepishly. "King Richard is a very handsome man." He placed a goblet on the table. "I would say that our king is even more charismatic and imposing than simply handsome." He eyed the king dressed in a royal purple brocade doublet and flat pants of the matching color, its wristbands and collar trimmed with diamonds and rubies. "It is inevitable that ladies like him."

She tugged at the sleeve of Robin's doublet. "Robin, I want to ask you something."

He turned his gaze at his wife. "Ask whatever you want."

"I love Richard very much, and I have always been very close to him. As you know, I grew up at his court in Poitiers when Aunt Eleanor was imprisoned," she began in a quiet voice as she didn't wish to be overheard. "I know everything about Richard's love affairs before he left for the Holy Land. He was very discreet, and the courtiers didn't know the names of his lovers, although there were not many mistresses who were lucky to be invited into his bed." She coughed nervously.

He eyed her attentively. "Pray continue."

Melisende leaned her head closer to him. "There are disgusting rumors about Richard. Here, in Acre, I have heard these rumors many times," she whispered into his ear. "They say that my cousin is indulging himself into… shameful things – sinful affairs – with his soldiers." She glanced into his eyes. "I know that similar gossip was circulating in Richard's lands even before the Crusade, but it wasn't true." She shifted in her chair uncomfortably. "It is not true, isn't it? I cannot believe in that."

Robin looked astonished. "And you believe these rumors, my dear?"

She smiled brightly. "So it is as I thought. Just rumors."

"Certainly," he assured her.

"Great."

He broke into a loud laughter. As his laugh faded away, he murmured into her ear, "You cannot imagine how many times I was accused of indulging myself into a mortal sin of sodomy with our king."

She giggled. "Well, there are rumors that you and Leicester are honored to share the king's bed."

Robin rubbed his cheek. "On the Crusade, there was the famous Anna Comnenus, a Cypriot princess and a daughter of Isaac Comnenus. She was very young and was held prisoner by King Richard since the conquest of Cyprus. She was a lovely lady, and I guess some would call her beautiful." He shrugged eloquently. "I don't know what our king found in her, but the girl enchanted him for a long time. She was with him in his tent many times." He emptied a goblet of wine. "And you know who his mistress was before our departure to the Holy Land."

"I know," Melisende said. "But I believe that no lady will ever have my cousin's heart. He is betrothed and married to a battle and a war, isn't he?"

Robin watched the king converse with Henry de Champagne. "I think so." He sighed heavily. "Our king won't fall in love again. Not after the death of his beloved years ago; you know whom I mean."

Melisende sighed grievously. "He told you about the death of his only true love, didn't he?"

He nodded. "Yes, he did."

She gave him a weak smile, her thumb stroking his cheek. "Let's hope that our king will be content with fighting his battles and winning them. Let's pray that war will not kill Richard any time soon."

He felt shiver running down his spine. "I even cannot think about his death."

"And so do I."

"Maybe Richard may find some consolation in his marriage to Queen Berengaria after our return and their reunion," Robin assumed, but there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes. "It would be not bad at all."

Melisende shrugged casually. "I believe that Richard will never return to the queen's bedroom. He lost hope to sire an heir on her, and he doesn't want to be with her anymore."

"I know. He told me the same once."

"Well, it is quite understandable. Berengaria failed to get pregnant with Richard's child while she was still in the Holy Land."

"I think you are right. The queen's bareness is the reason why our liege sent his wife away."

Melisende smiled at him. "Robin, would you want to have children?"

"I do want children," he admitted with a sigh; he didn't think of having children with his new wife after Marian had married Guy, but he found that he strangely didn't object that. "Yeah, I haven't thought of that for a long time."

"Children are always gifts from God." She tilted her head to once side, grinning at him. She harbored a great joy that he wanted children with her.

"I dare hope that you miss me when I am not with you." Robin pulled her closer to himself.

Melisende smiled down into at him, her features stunned. "Yes, I missed you, Robin."

He laughed at her, watching the soft and joyful glow that spread slowly across her face as the meaning and heartfelt tones of his words gradually impinged upon her senses. "Do I dare hope that you won't object to leave the banquet a little earlier?" he asked carefully, grinning rakishly at her. "Are my very sincere sentiments returned?"

She made a quiet sound, half a laugh, half a sob; then she threw her arms around his neck. "Definitely, yes, Robin."

Robin rose to his feet and bowed to the king, who winked at him. He kissed his wife's hand and gave her a heated look. He stood up and went to the exit, where he paused briefly and exchanged greetings and congratulations with those closest to the door, basking in the attention once again in day. At the doorway, he paused and gave Melisende another attentive look, smiling slightly, a mirthful smile that filled her heart with warmth. Then he spun around and went ahead to his destiny, not knowing that in less than an hour his world and old life would lie in tatters.

Robin went outside and descended a staircase, heading to the courtyard. He crossed the courtyard to another tower of the Citadel where the king's chambers were located and where Melisende was given her lodgings upon her arrival in Acre. He climbed the outer stairs and turned to the corridor, walked through another corridor, and then again ascended a staircase.

For whatever reason, Robin didn't go directly to the bedchamber he occupied with Melisende. Instead, he made his way to the bedchamber he had always occupied in the Citadel before – when he had stayed within the walls of Acre and hadn't been married yet. Nostalgia gripped his heart, pushing him to go to that room and have a look on the things which he had brought with him from England. He opened the door and entered the room, sweeping his eyes over the surroundings.

The scent of lemon and beeswax met his nostrils. There was the light from several candles that had been lit by the servants before his arrival. In the flickering light, his gaze fell on the old-fashioned, small steel box resting on a large oak desk in the corner of the chamber; in that box, his father, Malcolm of Locksley, had kept his rings and some of the Huntingdon family's jewels. Wishing to have something with himself in the Holy Land, Robin had taken the jewelry box with him from Locksley when he had packed his things in Locksley Manor in secret, under Thornton's watchful gaze.

Smiling to himself, his heartbeat quickening, Robin came to a table and touched the box gingerly. His fingers tingled, and nearly reverently, he took the box in his hands and weighted it. It was heavy, much heavier than it should have been with only several rings and some necklaces which belonged to Robin's mother and which now he planned to give Melisende soon.

The box clutched tightly in his grasp, Robin sank onto a chair next to a table. Heart pounding harder and harder, arching with pain for the loss of his deceased father, he was staring at the box he held on his lap for a long time without opening it. He had always been excited and scared, eager and simultaneously reluctant to open this seemingly innocent box.

He drew a deep breath and, in one quick motion, opened the box. He found only Malcolm's jewels and his fingers carefully extracted the large golden ring with the largest emerald he had ever seen, one of the rings his father had loved most of all among his rings, and he remembered it very well. His heart beating faster with excitement, Robin slipped the ring on his finger and smiled, looking at the exquisite piece of art. He chuckled as he didn't want to wear his father's large emerald ring which didn't match the color of his eyes, at the same time perfectly fitting the colors of the Huntingdon family crest.

He made an awkward movement, and the box fell from his lap, the sound that was muffled by a scarlet and gold carpet on the floor. Robin cursed and crouched to take the box back. He gathered all the rings and necklaces from the carpet. As he was about to put them back to the box, his attention was suddenly attracted by the small leather-bound volume that lay on the floor next to the delicately carved wooden piece, which looked like a false bottom for the box.

Robin of Locksley shook his head in disbelief, amazed and bewildered, his mind racing in desperate attempt to find explanations why his father had gone to a great deal of trouble to keep the small volume, perhaps the diary, concealed from prying eyes. What was so vital and so important that Malcolm of Locksley had felt impelled to place the strange volume in such a secret hiding place where nobody could have suspected to find it?

Robin was puzzled and curious. His father should have had a dark mystery if he had hidden his diary so well. He sighed heavily and prepared himself to spend several hours with the truth about the past. The only thing he didn't know was that his old life would be ruined in a moment. Had he known about that beforehand, he would have probably preferred to never read his father's diary.

§§§

Robin dragged a deep breath. His heart beating so frantically that he thought it could leap out of his chest, he opened the volume. His eyes fell at the date on the page he opened – January 1168, almost a year before his birth. Robin lowered his head and began reading; he smiled at the sight of Malcolm's large calligraphic handwriting that was so easily readable and understandable, and he remembered it so well from his childhood.

_My dear Elizabeth, my sweet wife, fair-haired and green-eyed, has made me extremely happy with the news – our child will arrive in September or October. I would be happy to have everyone, a daughter or a son. I know that I am the last of my line, and it is imperative that I have a son to carry on the title, but if we have a daughter this time, God will give us a son later._

Robin felt strange to read his father's words, and he smiled heartily, thinking about his parents, who married for love and were so happy together until his mother died in childbirth. As Malcolm and Elizabeth of Locksley expected their child to be born in the autumn of 1168, he supposed that his father had meant him. He let out a small laugh and continued reading.

_What a magically happy day! I am again at the court in London. I am so happy that I didn't stay in Locksley or in Huntingdon because life is boring and dull there. I know that my sweet, glorious wife, my beloved Elizabeth, is carrying my child, but it doesn't mean that I have to bury myself in Locksley. _

_Elizabeth became very annoying and lashes out at me day and night. She is very fragile and her eyes are often filled with tears of frustration that I am not always at her side. She doesn't understand that childbearing and childbirth are woman's deals, and I don't have to be chained to her for nine months. I love her very much, but I cannot tolerate her strange behavior only because she is pregnant._

_Here, at the royal court, everything is so different, strikingly different. I am so happy in the splendor and magnificence of the court. Everyone laughs and smiles, enjoys feasts and festivities given by King Henry and Queen Eleanor. This is another world, and this life is much better than life in my country estates._

He stared blankly at the page, almost as if the words were playing a trick with him. He felt anger building in his chest, and frantic, vulgar curses were boiling in his throat. When his mother was pregnant with _him_, his father entertained himself at the court! Robin's face contorted in rage; he was disgusted with Malcolm's words and behavior. Looking at the diary, he skipped several pages and continued reading.

Robin frowned, then skimmed quickly over the heavy strokes of Malcolm's handwriting. The two months Malcolm spent at the court were described in extraordinary details. Malcolm wrote about magnificent feasts and festivities, card games, dancing, and other entertainments, courtly love games, which were encouraged and worshiped by Queen Eleanor, as well as about King Henry's infamous infidelities. His father wrote a lot about Queen Eleanor's unhappiness in her marriage. The diary was full of everyday happenings, his father's deepest thoughts and emotions, and there was a reference to another woman, who greatly attracted Malcolm and seemed to have grown fond of him.

Robin's frown deepened. How could his father be so much involved in the court life when Elizabeth of Locksley was waiting for his return in Nottinghamshire? Was his father smitten with another woman? Robin sighed heavily, and his fingers turned the pages, his eyes flying across the written words. And then he found Malcolm's notes made in the late January of 1168.

_I just made the most questionable decision of my life. I am going to betray my marriage vows and be with her, with this lady whose image haunts me every minute, day and night. I don't love her, and even her extraordinary beauty and notoriousness cannot make me love her. But I have never wanted any other woman as much as I want her. I want her to be completely mine, the lady of my dreams and the lady of the highest standing in England, with all my being, with every fibre of my body. She is not very young, she is older than me, but she is still so beautiful that I cannot breathe and my heart starts hammering harder when she looks at me and her rosy lips curve in a cold and majestic smile._

_Eleanor, the Queen of England and the notorious Duchess of Aquitaine, wants to have me in her bed. I could have never dreamt that I would attract the queen's attention and that she would wish to take me as her lover as much as I wish her to be in my arms. Her lovely face, her blue eyes like the sky in sunny weather, her beautiful body, her cold and proud facial features, her regalness and even her cruelty – everything charm me so much that I cannot resist. I feel as if she had bewitched me, and I am entirely hers._

_Eleanor doesn't love me and I don't love her, but we are attracted to one another and I became her confident. But she is so unhappy in her marriage, with our magnificent young King who betrays her with her ladies-in-waiting, kitchen maids, daughters of noblemen, and even with peasant girls. _

_Eleanor once told me that she grew to hate her husband, even though she was madly in love with him when she accepted his marriage proposal. She once came to talk to me, she was very distressed and was crying, and I saw that her beautiful neck was bruised. I realized that King Henry, who drank much at banquets and feasts, had beaten his wife; Eleanor didn't tell me, but I noticed similar bruises on her neck twice, and that was enough to make my blood boil with anger._

Keeping the place with his finger, Robin closed the book for a moment and leaned back in his chair. He was shocked and repulsed with his father, who forgot about his mother so easily and was so much attracted to the Queen of England. At least now he realized why his father had hidden the diary so well. He had to learn more what Malcolm had with Queen Eleanor, and he again opened the diary. He came to the entry dated February 1168.

_I am the most ignoble and wretched of all men. I forgot about my wife whom I love. I betrayed not only myself, but my dear wife as well. None of that is Elizabeth's fault, for she is innocent, and I have no right to betray her, but I can no longer fight with my desires and I cannot lose his chance to have Queen Eleanor in my bed. It is a rare honor to be the queen's lover, and I intend to use my chance._

_Queen Eleanor came to me again last night, and we had a long, passionate lovemaking. She tasted of glory, beauty, passion, and challenge. Dear God, I wanted her so much that I thought I would die from urgent need to possess her, from pleasure. I know that what I am doing is not right and is unfair to my wife Elizabeth, but having an affair with the queen is my most cherished dream. I cannot stop now, even if I condemn myself to eternal damnation; I cannot reject a brilliant opportunity to be with Eleanor. _

_My poor Elizabeth! She writes that she often feels unwell and spends much time in the bed, confined to the bedchamber. She is pale and unhealthy, and the doctors are concerned about her health. She wants me to come back to Locksley or to Huntingdon, but I cannot return and I don't want to do that. I love Elizabeth very much, and I often dream of her smile, her sweet face and her gorgeous eyes. I am shuddering at the thought of what may happen if Elizabeth learns about my relationship with Eleanor._

_But Queen Eleanor is different. I am attracted to her beyond any reason and measure. Passion for her overpowers me entire being; I can ignore all norms of moral and honor to be with her. She is a pure wanton seductress. I understand why so many Aquitanian troubadours worship her as a goddess of love and an unfading beauty of the world. I understand why so many men have always been at her feet, ready to go to the ends of the earth to be with her, even if they can have nothing in return. It is not love – it is a burning passion, overwhelming and destructive. I love having the queen in my bed, and it will be like ripping my still beating heart out of my chest if Eleanor ever demands to stop our meetings._

Robin swallowed a gasp, his eyes widening in shock. His father toyed with Lady Elizabeth of Locksley's feelings and slept with Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine! He couldn't believe what he was learning from the diary. He wished that he had never seen Malcolm's diary, but it was too late.

§§§

Robin resented Malcolm for tarnishing Queen Eleanor. He couldn't understand how his father found it possible to sleep with the Queen of England. He hated his father for his wickedness and dishonor. He loathed his father for the fact that a beautiful and powerful woman could make him overstep moral rules and abandon his pregnant wife in order to enjoy pleasantries of the court and continue his secret love affair with Queen Eleanor.

Robin wasn't a saint and used to have many lovers, but he would have never admitted a simple thought of sleeping with Queen Berengaria even if she tried to seduce him; he would have never betrayed King Richard in such a low, vicious way. There were things which a subject could never do to his king and his queen, and everyone should have known that, although Malcolm of Locksley had ignored all sacred principles of honor, which he himself had taught Robin in childhood.

"What other secrets are hidden in this diary?" Robin murmured to himself.

He had to learn what happened between Queen Eleanor and his father. He had to understand what else his father had done. He wanted to know the truth about his father and possibly himself, even if it could be _the bitter truth_; the words sounded like a whisper, so much like a plea. Robin forced himself to read more; the next entry was dated April 1168.

_Eleanor came to my room at midnight, alone and dressed only in her silk robe. Today she was distressed and cruel. She blamed me that I had brought so many problems on her, saying that if she could have predicted the outcome of our liaison, she would have never slept with me. We quarreled a lot, but then we both succumbed to temptation, and I again tasted the forbidden sweetness of her body._

_When Eleanor began crying, and I asked her what happened. She said nothing and only shook her head; tears were streaming down her pale cheeks, but she still looked as beautiful an immortal goodness. Once I touched her cheek and she raised her tear-stained face to mine, we were lost again._ _When we finally parted with great reluctance, for the first time, there was a long silence between us. _

_And then Eleanor told me that she was expecting my child. I was speechless and utterly shocked, but Eleanor said that she would take care of everything. She is so intelligent and so rational, and she has already decided what she would do. She said that she would hide her pregnancy from King Henry and everyone in the world. Then she would give the child into a family of one of her loyal Saxon or Norman lords. King Henry would never learn the truth, and if he does, then we are doomed to die. _

_Eleanor also learnt that my wife was pregnant. She accused me of being a heartless womanizer, and then she ordered me to return to my wife to Locksley. She repeated that she would let me know about the child if she herself wanted that and asked me not to worry. She ordered to keep silent and never utter a word about our affair to anyone, especially my wife._

Robin drew an agonizing breath. He looked deeply troubled, feeling his heart fill up with apprehension, but not knowing what else he could read in Malcolm's diary. He couldn't believe that his father had gotten the Queen of England pregnant. Many questions were flying wildly through his feverish brain, and he kept reading, with the terrifying sensation of suddenly stepping into a dark, fathomless abyss.

There were no more entries between April and October 1168. Robin skimmed a page, and his gaze fell on October 14, 1168, the day of his birth and Elizabeth of Locksley's death. The disastrous childbirth lasted two days, and Elizabeth's sufferings were described in great details. Robin's heart was broken, aching for his father; Malcolm seemed to have been genuinely shocked with Elizabeth's death. What puzzled Robin was that there was no word about the child – about _him,_ as he believed.

He looked through several more pages and encountered another entry, which nearly killed him, his world was in tatters. His life was full of lies and illusions. His heart was bleeding, his world was broken.

_Elizabeth had given birth to my daughter by the end of the second day of her labor. My daughter was stillborn and very small; the midwife said that she had no chance to survive. We named her Adele as Elizabeth wished. The midwife gave me a sad look and declared that my wife had contracted childbed fever and that there was nothing that could have saved her. _

_I shut the door of the bedroom to be together with my Elizabeth in her last minutes. I didn't want to be disturbed. I had to watch for another day how Elizabeth tossed and turned in her bed, suffering from childbed fever and barely clinging to life. She died at dawn. I would never forgive myself that I didn't spent much time with her in the months before her death. Everyone was dead. I was dead inside._

_After her death, I refused to leave the chamber and stayed near Elizabeth's bed. My grief was overwhelming, and I thought of killing myself. I loved my wife and she was gone. I didn't come out of the room until the late night. The servants didn't know that my wife died and impatiently waited for the news with somber and sullen faces._

_I would have been alone in the whole world, if I didn't receive a secret note through Thornton on the same evening. Thornton knocked at the door and said that he had an urgent matter to discuss with me. I didn't answer to his pleas until he said that it was from Kirklees Abbey, where Eleanor was hiding from her husband throughout many months. I opened the door, and my life changed._

_My heart was pounding so hard that I thought I would die on the spot. Eleanor gave birth to my son, one month and a half earlier than she had expected. The childbirth nearly took her life, and she barely survived. Although the boy was born prematurely, he was strong and healthy, with my pale blue eyes and charming dimples on his cheeks. I had a son with Eleanor. I wasn't alone._

_Eleanor wrote that she had learnt about my wife's untimely death and she gave me her condolences. I learnt that the midwife, who attended Elizabeth's childbirth, was Eleanor's spy. As Elizabeth's death wasn't announced yet, Eleanor offered to replace the children – to take the boy and raise him as my and Elizabeth's son. She wrote that the tragedy could have been used to my advantage because I raise the boy and make him my heir. _

_I had to take the boy and made no announcement that both my wife and the child had died. Instead, I had to say that my wife died but my son survived. Eleanor assured me that she would take care of everything and that everyone who knew about the secret and that they would be silenced forever. And I did what she advised: I came to my people and declared that my wife had given me a handsome and healthy boy, though at the price of her own life._

_On the same night, two women, cloaked in the black woolen coats, arrived with Thornton, who became our agreeable servant and the keeper of our secret. They brought the small bundle to me – the baby boy. As soon as I took the boy in my arms, I fell in love with him on the spot. He was peacefully sleeping but stirred when I caressed his chubby cheek with my thumb. He was so small, but he was heavy and healthy. Darkness dissolved, and I saw the light in my life – my son._

_The fact that I had a son chased away most of the dark shadows from my heart, replacing them with joy._

_There was Eleanor's note in the baby's garments. She wrote that she had named my son Robert or Robin, and she demanded that I used the same name. When the boy was sleeping in his crib, the window was ajar and the bird flew inside the chamber from the forest near the abbey. The bird landed on the edge of the crib and started twittering – it was a robin. Eleanor decided that the name was good for our son; it was kind of symbolical, too. Since then, my Robin and I live together in Locksley._

Robin closed the volume and threw it on the carpet. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting against hot tears. He climbed to his feet and walked slowly to the window, as if he were going to have a look on the sun that was sinking into the vast blue sea, as if the sunset was a symbol of the end of his life. His eyes filled with bitter tears that trickled down his cheeks, and a heavy, pulsating ache was building in his heart and spreading in waves through his entire being.

He turned around and stared at the diary on the floor. He had never expected that he would learn such intimate things from his father's private life. He had never imagined that the woman he had called his mother wasn't his natural mother and that _he was a bastard_. He swallowed with difficulty as a lump formed in his throat. His life was ruined, and he didn't know what to think of the truth and how to live with the knowledge that all his life was a fairy-tale created for him by Queen Eleanor.

Robin returned to a chair and collected the small volume from the floor; then he continued reading his father's diary. There were a great deal of entries about Malcolm's love for Robin, his deep mourning for Elizabeth, and the guilt for the betrayal of Elizabeth which corroded his father's heart. There was no word about Queen Eleanor, apart from the only one that she had been imprisoned by her husband. Throughout many pages, it was as if Eleanor had disappeared from Malcolm's life, entirely and completely. The diary was full of day-to-day happenings in Locksley and in Huntingdon; many entries were devoted to Robin's life and his unusual character.

Many other entries were about the Gisborne family, especially about Lady Ghislane of Gisborne, whom Malcolm had grown very fond of and whom he helped to run her estate in Roger of Gisborne's absence. Robin's father wrote that Ghislane wanted Robin to marry her daughter Isabella of Gisborne, but Malcolm betrothed Robin to Marian of Knighton, Sir Edward of Knighton's daughter, to ensure Edward's loyalty to Queen Eleanor, for they had to keep Robin's true parentage in secret.

Robin gave an exclamation of surprise at the revelation that Sir Edward had always known the secret of his true parentage; he also began to respect the deceased man much more than ever before, for Edward had been keeping the Locksley secret and had been always loyal to Queen Eleanor until his death. Yet, he didn't comprehend how Sir Edward managed to learn the truth and what role he played in the replacement of Malcolm's stillborn daughter with Robin.

He flipped through several pages, stopping to read the paragraphs about Malcolm's love escapades with Ghislane of Gisborne and his deep love for her. He had never suspected that his father had had a liaison with Guy's mother for several months before Roger of Gisborne's return from the Holy Land.

He stared down, in shocked disbelief, at the entry about the birth of Ghislane and Malcolm's son, who was named Archer due to the birthmark in a shape of arrows on his chest. Never had Robin expected that his father had sired a bastard son with Guy's mother and had planned to marry her. Archer's birth was the last entry in the diary, and Robin closed the volume, his eyes cold and hard.

Robin sat motionless and frozen, like an antique statue, holding his father's diary in his hands, his mind racing in a flurry of thoughts, tears oozing in the corners of his eyes. Trying to banish the thoughts of his father's liaisons with Queen Eleanor and Ghislane of Gisborne, he strained to listen to the footsteps in the corridor. Then he heard someone open the door to the chamber, and he felt with his skin that the intruder's curious gaze.

Robin turned around and his eyes fell on King Richard who stood at the doorway, a grin lurking on his liege's lips. Robin stared at the King of England, his expression absent-minded; a wave of shock passed through him as the realization dawned upon him– Richard was his half-brother. He lowered his head and glanced in horror at the diary, then lifted his gaze at Richard, who intercepted the direction of his gaze.

"Why are you here, Robin?" King Richard asked cautiously.

Looking up at the king, he drew a swift, short breath. "I needed some time alone, sire. Am I to have an audience even now?" He didn't stand up to bow to the king.

Richard looked surprised before anxiety flashed in his eyes. "Quite likely if your wife or I need you," he replied with a straight face, ignoring Robin's disrespectful tone and dropping royal etiquette. "Tongues and opinions are busy today. We signed the peace treaty with Saladin, but you seem to be unhappy."

His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and Robin sighed, realizing that the king pretended that he didn't pay attention to his subject's rudeness. "I didn't do anything dishonorable here."

"Of course not," the lion said.

Robin inclined his head in courtesy. "Thank you for not reprimanding me."

"What happened, Robin?"

"Nothing," Robin muttered.

The king came to him and, looking with concern at the younger man's ghostly pale face, he took the small volume from Robin's arms. As he opened the diary and quickly looked through it; he blanched, his face evolving into sheer disbelief and then into utter shock. "Who gave you this diary?"

"I found it in the hiding place, in the box where my father kept his jewels, including the jewels of the Huntingdons. The box had a false bottom."

The lion sighed. "Did you ever see it before?"

"No, I didn't, milord."

King Richard exhaled sharply and glanced away for a moment before he swung his gaze back to Robin. "I have never wanted you to learn the truth in this manner," he declared glumly.

Robin shook his head, as if he were trying to shake off unreality. His already pale features now seemed even paler. "I hoped I imagined that. Is it true?" he asked, almost choking on every word.

The king didn't answer for a while, gathering his composure and thinking of what he could have told Robin. The room fell deathly silent. His heart beating in thick strokes, Robin stared at the king's somber face, and he saw that there was the lost and sorrowful look in Richard's eyes that were kind despite the monarch's tight expression and rigid posture.

"It is true, Robin," Richard said at last.

"It is hardly the good truth," Robin managed to say.

"Make yourself comfortable and prepare to listen. It is a long story," the king stated as he settled into a red brocade armchair near the window that overlooked the formally laid-out garden. "I will tell you everything I know, but I warn you that I am not aware of some details."

The King of England began the long, intricate story about Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine's miserable marriage to King Henry II of England, Henry's disrespectful treatment of the queen and his sons, the story which was full of sorrow and pain. Richard said only a few words about Malcolm of Locksley's affair with Queen Eleanor. He revealed that King Henry had learnt the truth about Robin's real parentage from Sir Roger of Gisborne, who had sought to buy Henry's forgiveness for the treason he had committed in the Holy Land when he had disclosed the queen's secret to her husband. Then the king jumped to the horrid story about Queen Eleanor's imprisonment, introducing many spicy details in his take. Richard talked about Robin's horrible abduction by Bailiff Longthorn and mentioned several assassination attempts on Robin's life that had happened after the fire at Gisborne Manor.

Robin stared at the king in a stunned silence. He wanted nothing so much as to bury his face in his hands and weep. His expression was hard to define – it was a curious mixture of regret, pain, wariness, despair, and relief. Richard continued speaking, with his face impenetrable, for at least half an hour before he relapsed into silence and gave Robin a prick-eared and searching look. There was a shattering silence, punctuated only by their agitated breathing.

Soon that lethal silence became unbearable, and then the king spoke at last, his features devoid of all emotions, his voice calm, but his gaze grim. "I don't know the details of the affair our mother had with your father. And even if I knew the truth, I wouldn't have told you because I have no right to inform you about such intimate details of our mother's private life."

Robin stared at the king, wondering how long Richard had known the truth. He wished to question him again, and his heart sank, for he was equally afraid to hear his reply. "_The truth is bitter, sire_," he uttered uneasily. His voice was low and unsteady.

"_But it is the truth, my dear Robin_."

Robin shook his head in disbelief. "Am I really Queen Eleanor's son?" He couldn't believe that it was true. He was trying to reject the very idea that he wasn't Lady Elizabeth of Locksley's son.

"_Yes, you are, Robin_."

"Then… you are my…" Robin stammered. He couldn't speak. He was overwhelmed.

"I am your half-brother," King Richard finished with a cautious and strained smile, but also a smile of rare warmth. "You share with me the blood of my better half – our mother's blood."

"Oh," Robin breathed, lowering his head.

"Whatever you want it or not, Robin, you have to accept the truth." The king leaned heedfully back in his chair, staring outside, into the fashionable gardens; then his gaze turned back to Robin.

Robin shut his eyes for a moment, feeling as if he were descending to hell. Images of his past life – the life that was his and yet that didn't feel like his – haunted him.

Powerful waves of conflicted emotions effused from within Robin's heart, and heartache was tearing apart his body, heart, and soul. Everything in his life was a great lie! The truth shocked him so much that he was in a state of ice-cold panic. He could feel the frantic beating of his own heart. Never before had he been so lost and so confused. He didn't know how to react and know what to think of King Richard in the wake of the new revelations. He was falling into the deepest depths of despair.

§§§

Robin couldn't begin to understand all the emotions seething through him: anger, regret, fury, perhaps a feeling of genuine kinship, as well as longing, love, and disbelief. He only knew that he loved King Richard as his king and a dear, very dear friend. As strong as he had ever felt for anyone, Robin could definitely say that the only pleasant thing out of the truth was that he loved – dearly loved – Richard. And it was a real, vibrant, vital feeling that he and Richard cared for each other so much. Out of all the emotions streaking through him, his love and admiration for the king, as well as his great respect to the lion, were the most real and understandable feelings.

Robin stared at Richard, his king and his newly found half-brother. "If I may ask you a question, sire, how long have you known all the truth?"

"For a long time," Richard replied tiredly, suddenly looking older than his real age was. "I learnt the truth on the day when I visited our mother in her prison, at Pontefract Castle. She confessed to me in her love affair with Sir Malcolm of Locksley, and she begged me to help her handle Bailiff Longthorn who tried to kill you at the order of my father."

"Now I understand," Robin said dryly, suddenly aware of the entire situation as his past emerged in his mind in all its sickening clarity. "It was you who saved me from the bailiff when he stole me from Locksley and held me in one of the castles in the north, waiting for our good and gracious King Henry to arrive from Normandy and have a look at the queen's bastard before murdering him."

"You have a very shrewd mind."

Robin looked pensive. "I was a small child at that time, but I have quite clear memories about my imprisonment." He paled. "I remember that it was very cold and damp in the cell where I was held." Tears suspended his voice, and he gallantly brought his emotions under control; only then he spoke again. "And… I was very hungry because the bailiff took a particular pleasure in making me starve. He liked taunting me that I was no more than a small worthless puppy, starved and beaten. He also called me _a little bastard puppy_, but at that time I didn't understand that."

The lion looked saddened. "Forget about that. It brings only bad emotions." He sighed. "Some things must be forgotten or left unsaid."

"Hmm, not these things," Robin objected. "Why did you save my life, milord?"

Richard smiled softly. "I saved you because our mother asked me to do that. I did that for her."

"Why didn't the queen do something to help me?" Robin laughed acidly. "My father wrote in his diary that your… mother, sire, had refused to ever see the child, and it had happened before she was imprisoned." He made a helpless gesture, grinning ruefully. "Of course, she didn't care for a bastard whose existence threatened to spoil her life." He deliberately refrained from calling Eleanor his mother.

The king slowly shook his head in disagreement, ignoring Robin's venomous statement about Queen Eleanor. "Robin, you must be reasonable. Before you accuse our mother of something, remember that she was imprisoned for more than fifteen years. Have you forgotten that my father placed her under a permanent house arrest after the unsuccessful revolt of 1173?"

"I do remember about that," Robin said quietly.

"My father was nothing more than a cruel and annoying presence in our lives. He imprisoned mother after he had captured her on the coast when she was going to sail from Dover , and initially she was placed to the damp dungeons of Dover Castle."

Robin gave a slight nod. "I remember history," he echoed his previous words.

"Then you should understand why she couldn't have helped you and why she confessed in everything to me," the king continued flatly. "When my father learnt about the secret from Sir Roger of Gisborne, he was outraged. Our mother lost her last chance to ever be freed while my father was alive."

"What did King Henry do to her?"

The lion's eyes darkened with remembered distress. "Henry Plantagenet ordered to toughen our mother's conditions of imprisonment." He sighed heavily, collecting his composure. "Under convoy and accompanied by several loyal ladies-in-waiting, mother was delivered to the north of England, to Pontefract Castle. Sir John de Lacy, Roger de Lacy's father, was never loyal to mother, and he kindly agreed to keep the rebellious Queen of England under heavy guard and in pretty miserable conditions. In the first years after my father had learnt the truth about mother's adultery and the birth of the child, he reduced the queen to living in conditions worse than any most dangerous criminal can have."

"I am sorry to hear that," Robin commented genuinely. A lance of anger stabbed through him at the thought of the queen's suffering at the order of the old king.

An expression of utter loathing on his face, the king stiffened and clenched his fists. "I have always loathed my father, but it wasn't until I visited mother at Pontefract Castle when I started hating him. God forgive me, but I wish it was father instead of mother who was imprisoned!" He gave a bitter little laugh. "I was prohibited to see our mother, but one of her most loyal ladies, Legrand's mother by the way, brought to me her note with an urgent request for the meeting, and I rode as a madman to Pontefract from London for three days and nights."

"And then she confessed?"

"Yes, she did."

"And what happened then?"

"After I had found you and killed Bailiff Longthorn, I delivered you back to Locksley, and then I brought to you my doctor, who tended to your wounds and tried to cure your fever. We didn't want to cause more gossip than it had already circulated since the day of your disappearance from Locksley. Nobody knew where you were, and we quickly made up a tale that you had departed to Huntingdon, so our small lie covered the interval between your disappearance, your salvation from the vile bailiff, and your return to Locksley after your complete recovery."

"But I was indeed brought to Huntingdon! When I awoke, I was in Huntingdon, not in Locksley!"

"Robin, you were feverish when my two loyal men, Sir Edward of Knighton, and I delivered you to Locksley. I think you simply couldn't remember those dreadful moments. I spent two nights with you, and then I ordered to secretly transport you to Huntingdon, so nobody knew what happened."

Robin arched a brow. "Sir Edward of Knighton?"

"Yes. Mother said that Sir Edward had helped them conceal the truth from the beginning and that he would help me free you. Under the cover of the night, I rode from Pontefract to Knighton and found Sir Edward there. Sir Edward told me everything about your abduction by Longthorn. Sir Edward was trying to find you during those three months while you were imprisoned, but he had no means to do that." He sighed heavily. "After I came to Knighton Hall and he told me the story of your disappearance and abduction, I devised the effective plan to find and free you. Then we spent several days investigating your whereabouts. Finally, we found and saved you."

"Sir Edward was my father's old friend," Robin remarked.

"I know."

"Did Sir Edward know who you were, sire?"

The lion laughed, which was a joyful sound. "Yes, he did. He was amazed that I, Prince Richard at that time, came to his manor at dawn and assaulted him with questions about you."

"He was an honorable man," Robin said.

"Yes, he was."

"You killed the bailiff, didn't you?"

"Yes," the lion confirmed. "I beheaded Longthorn like a dog, for he deserved a cruel death. We dag a grave and threw his body there. He wasn't given a Christian burial as I didn't want anyone to know what happened." He smirked darkly. "I was very young, only nineteen, but I already commanded large troops and rebelled against my own father. Beheading didn't seem to be an extraordinary thing."

Robin brushed his palm over the side of his sandy hair that roguishly hung over his forehead. "But why King Henry stopped persecuting me and allowed me to live in peace as the Earl of Huntingdon?"

A heavy silence stretched between them. The king watched Robin intently, the expression on his face hard to define, as he was thinking whether he could reveal more pieces of the bitter truth.

"We had a long conversation with my father. It was a difficult and unforgettable chat," Richard said honestly, his nervousness palpable, his eyes lingering at Robin's face. "Your father, Sir Malcolm, was dead." He paused and cleared his throat; he decided not to tell Robin more shocking news that his father's death had been fabricated. "My father was infuriated that you were alive, but he agreed to let you live on certain conditions."

Robin gave him a startled look. "Which conditions?"

The king let out a deep sigh. "Although it was not easy, father and I reached an agreement. I pledged to ensure that nobody would ever learn about your true parentage." He stared down and twisted his fingers. "There is something else..."

"What?" Robin was impatient.

The king looked straight into Robin's eyes. "My father wanted to make sure that the Gisborne children would remain dispossessed and exiled from England, that you would never return their former lands to them. I knew that Guy and Isabella of Gisborne were banished from Locksley after the fire. They were already exiled and dispossessed, and it was not difficult to make such a promise to my father."

Robin looked amazed; something inside him snapped, spilled over. "Why did he want that?"

Richard sighed. "Sir Roger of Gisborne had been a loyal knight to my father, but he betrayed him in the Holy Land. My father wanted to punish him, as well as his offspring." He cleared his throat. "There was also another thing. Lady Ghislane of Gisborne was my father's mistress before her marriage to Sir Roger, and she was hastily married off to Roger after father had discarded her."

"But why?" Robin looked thoroughly alarmed. "Was Lady Ghislane… with child?"

The lion inclined his head in acknowledgement of the fact. "Yes."

"Is Guy of Gisborne…?" Robin asked, his face pale and shocked.

"Guy of Gisborne is my father's illegitimate son. Our mother was sympathetic with Lady Ghislaine and arranged her marriage to Roger of Gisborne to save the lady's reputation," Richard confirmed, scowling severely. "But Lady Ghislane was very ungrateful and told her husband, Sir Roger, the truth about your birth. She betrayed her Queen after all our mother's kindness to her, and her telltale tongue caused much misery to Sir Malcolm, you, and her own family."

Robin felt as though earth had been shaking behind him. "Then Guy of Gisborne is your half-brother…"

"You heard me correctly. Guy of Gisborne is my half-brother on my father's side, one of very many bastards my father sired on his numerous mistresses and whores," the lion said neutrally. "And you, Robin, are my half-brother on my mother's side."

"I am, am I not?" Robin spelled out slowly, in amazement.

"You are, whatever you want that or not."

Robin blinked, shocked. "But then why King Henry wanted to punish his own son?"

There was a long silence as Richard's lips pressed thin and white with anger; when he spoke, his voice chilled the air. "My father never cared about his illegitimate children and even his legitimate ones; he loved John most of all among his offspring and spoiled him too much. He acknowledged some of his bastards, but the majority of them weren't granted this doubtful privilege." He paused and sighed. "Many of his mistresses didn't have a good life after father discarded them, and Lady Ghislaine was pretty unlucky."

"Why is that so?" Robin's voice was thick, a scowl manifesting on his face.

"There were rumors that Lady Ghislane was unfaithful to her lover, the King of England. When she informed father about her delicate condition, he laughed into her face and declared that he wasn't sure that she carried his child," Richard reported. "Our mother helped Ghislane and found Roger of Gisborne for the role of the lady's husband to cover her shame."

"And what happened next?"

Richard turned away, and Robin could not see his expression. "My father never believed that Guy was his son, and Lady Ghislaine's so-called betrayal of her faithfulness to her king hurt my father's pride and ego. Later, when he learnt about Roger of Gisborne's high treason and his mysterious survival in the Holy Land, he wanted Sir Roger dead. Later he also wished to punish the Gisborne offspring for Ghislaine's so-called betrayal and for Roger's treason."

With something between amusement and trepidation, Robin stared at his liege. "And then you agreed to sacrifice your own half-brother to save another half-brother from King Henry's wrath," he concluded.

The lion leaned back on his armchair, staring uneasily at Robin. "I had to do that to save you, Robin, to let you live in peace in your estates."

"You sacrificed one half-brother to save another one. You sacrificed one bastard for another bastard."

"I didn't care for Guy, but I cared for our mother. I felt that it was my responsibility to save you and give you a normal life you deserved."

"Sire, you think that I deserved it? Why?"

"You did deserve everything the best we could give you because you are the son of my beloved mother, for whom I can willingly sacrifice my own life; you are not my father's son."

Robin cringed at the chillness in his liege's tone. "Not your father's son," he said automatically.

"Yes. You know my attitude to my father: I loathe and hate him."

"I do understand your feelings."

A frowned creased Richard's forehead. "Then please don't ask me such strange questions."

Robin drew in a sharp breath. "When I was fifteen, I went to Poitiers to have the knighthood training under Lord Sheridan's leadership. Sir Edward told me that he arranged everything and that it was a brilliant opportunity for me."

"I promised to take care of you, so that I sent my personal invitation to Sir Edward."

"I was your ward from fifteen to eighteen, and I often wondered why it was so."

"It was done at my initiative, and Sir Edward agreed," the king explained.

"Why did you need that, milord?"

"Robin, it was necessary. I had known that I would have to fight for my throne with my own father several years before the rebellion actually took place." A heavy sigh tumbled from the king's mouth. "I was the eldest surviving son of the king, but father didn't want me to be the King of England. He wanted John to be his heir – always John, his only favorite and hope for a bright future! Father disliked me most of all among his sons because I am mother's favorite child."

Richard gazed away, at the window. Looking at the king, he realized, with a painful thump of his heart, that the king was wistful and sad, even if his liege's face was impassive. He could feel Richard's sadness pulsating in waves all around him. The sun had already set a while ago; darkness deepened, and the moon rose bright and full in the black sky.

"I am so sorry for reminding you of that." Robin felt guilty that he saddened Richard whose heart was aching because of his father's rejection. Robin had no idea how the lion could have felt knowing father didn't love his son just because his mother loved him. Yet, he saw that the king's sorrow was the devastating experience, which his liege revealed to him for the first time in many years.

"No need to apologize."

"You had wanted me to be out of England by the time the rebellion started?"

"Exactly. You have always had a keen and lofty intellect," the king praised. "It was dangerous to leave you in England when the rebellion was about to start. Therefore, I planned to summon you to the court in Poitiers at least six months before the war with my father." He paused, sighing deeply. "You were my ward, and your life at the court in Aquitaine didn't look suspicious. Your absence in England didn't attract unwanted attention, which is why I made you my ward when you turned fifteen."

"And you summoned me, milord."

"I invited you to spend time in Aquitaine. I didn't issue an order," Richard corrected. "I knew that you would be tempted by a chance to improve your fighting skills. I sponsored a new advanced training especially for you and some other knights, including Robert de Beaumont."

Robin's full mouth curved into a faint smile. King Richard was a cunning man, more cunning than he had ever thought. He had known the lion for many years, but he was still amazed how many aspects of his liege's personality he didn't understand. Richard was a mysterious man in so many aspects.

"You thought out everything in advance."

The lion's lips lengthened in a smug smile. "Precisely, Robin. I had to do that, knowing your mischievous and rebellious nature."

An impish grin curved Robin's mouth. "And if I hadn't come there, what would have happened?"

A frankly mischievous smile tugged at the king's lips. "Is it a challenge?"

"Are there any consequences?" Robin said, excitement lighting up his face.

The monarch cast a mocking look at his subject. "Your challenge to my authority of your guardian would have been responded. I would have exercised my legal right to make decisions about many aspects of your life, including choosing the place of your residence. I would have removed you from England by force as a disobedient ward by sending a convoy of armed men to Nottingham and making you relocate to Poitiers. But you didn't reject my invitation, and I didn't have to use drastic measures."

"I spent more than a year at your court in Poitiers while you fought with your father for the throne," Robin reminisced. "You sent to me your page with a letter, in which you prohibited me to go back to England until your notice. Only when the old king died, I was allowed to depart to Nottingham."

"I could have lost that war or be killed in battle, and I didn't want to risk your life, Robin. If I had lost, my father could have gone back on his word." The king shook his head, at the same time crossing his arms on his broad chest. "I couldn't have allowed my father to persecute or kill you. Thus, I ordered you to stay in Aquitaine until I knew the outcome of my war with father for the throne."

Robin went still, very still. He inhaled and exhaled sharply as he struggled to digest the mind-blowing revelations; he was terrified out of his wits by the number of things that turned out to be a lie in his life. The truth touched something deep inside of him, a part of him he had always kept intact. He was frightened by the raw emotion rushing through his heart. He had never thought that he had survived the dark period after his father's death only thanks to King Richard and Sir Edward.

"I must thank you for the salvation of my life. I owe you," Robin whispered.

King Richard smiled. "You owe me nothing."

"No, I do."

"You saved my life many times. Your debt, though there was no debt, was redeemed a long time ago."

Closing his eyes, Robin let the memories unfold. "When I arrived at the court in Poitiers for the first time and was introduced to you, sire, you suddenly showed interest in me. You gave me swordplay lessons, you talked to me a lot, and you invited me for private dinners and hunting parties. You offered me your friendship. We quickly became close, to my utter surprise, I have to say."

King Richard smiled vaguely. "When I saved you from Longthorn, I didn't know that I would ever love you… and trust you. And then I saw you in Poitiers, I knew who you were, and you peaked my interest. I discovered that I liked you very much; it was the reason why I offered you my friendship."

"Sire, I told you about the fire that consumed my father. I told you that I felt guilty as I let the villagers banish the Gisbornes from Locksley. I said that I wanted to find Guy of Gisborne and transfer the former Gisborne lands on Guy's name. And you strongly discouraged me from trying to contact Guy."

"My father was alive at that time. We couldn't have risked your life."

"For God's sake, milord!" Robin raised his voice. "King Henry has been dead for several years by now, and there has been no threat to my life during all this time. You could have told me the truth several years ago! But you preferred to keep silent and let me feel guilty that I was unfair to Gisborne."

"I remember that you had tried to find Guy of Gisborne before we went on the Crusade."

"I went to Normandy and crossed it several times, but I failed to find him."

"I know. I discouraged you to try it again because it was too late to make amends after so many years. I wanted to protect you from the painful memories that could hurt you."

His heart beating frenziedly, Robin's eyes glittered furiously at the king. "Only once in my life, only once and only to you, I admitted that I felt guilty of the Gisbornes' plight and that I had hated Guy for causing my father's death, but that I still felt guilty." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "Once I told Much that I felt guilty, but I didn't tell him all my thoughts about Gisborne." He sighed. "You were the first person whom I trusted so much that I told you about all my fears and insecurities."

"I treasured your candidness and sincerity, Robin." The lion chuckled. "It was when I understood how honest and noble-hearted you are, Robin."

Robin looked both hurt and desperate. "Milord, I told you the truth, but you did nothing to ease my conscience. You did nothing and only told me that I wasn't guilty, even in spite of the fact that you knew that the situation troubled me and despite the knowledge that Gisborne is your half-brother…"

"I told you that you were not guilty of what happened to the Gisbornes," Richard parried.

"You knew the truth," Robin shot back.

"Yes."

The leashed anger radiating from him, Robin cast an accusing glance at the lion. "My actions on the night of the fire were dishonorable, and I regretted them for so long. I could have helped Gisborne."

Richard despised Guy and considered the Gisbornes the only reason for so many troubles he had to solve to save Robin. "I don't care for Guy of Gisborne, especially after he tried to kill me in Acre in that raid when he also wounded you from the back, cunningly and cowardly, not like a man and a knight," he replied coldly. "But I deeply care for you, Robin, and you know that."

"If you care for me so much, then why didn't you tell me the truth earlier?" Robin interjected, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Richard gave Robin a reproachful glare, but decided against doing a reprimand. "I had no right to tell you the truth, and I did that today only because you learnt everything from your father's diary."

"Why didn't you say something earlier, sire? I had a right to know!" Robin demanded with an edge to his voice, anger simmering in his blood, his eyes as hard and unyielding as steel.

"Our mother, Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine, is the only person who had a right to tell you the truth. She had an affair with your father," Richard responded calmly, neglecting to acknowledge Robin's outburst. "And she didn't give me that right. I had to keep silent, until today's events."

The king's favorite ran an agitated hand through his hair. "She didn't want me to know, did she?"

"Yes, she didn't want that."

"Why?"

"She wanted to protect you from sufferings. Telling you the truth meant hurting you, and she didn't want that; I didn't wish to bring any harm to your heart if we could have avoided that."

"You think that it is better to live a life of lies, sire?"

"I don't think so; but some things are better to remain unsaid, at least for some time."

"For some time!" Robin exclaimed, growing angrier. "I can understand why you kept everything in secret while King Henry was alive, but not now, not after his death. Even if it was too late to change something for Guy and his sister, I think that I deserved to know the truth about my birth before the Crusade, when the old king was dead and you ascended the throne."

"It wasn't my right to tell you the truth," Richard reiterated, obviously irritated.

"You should have told me the truth," Robin insisted. His gaze turned sharper and accusing.

The king threw Robin a dark look. "I owed you nothing more than I had done for you. And I also… didn't want you to learn the truth." He released a sigh of frustration. "I always fought with my brothers for power. We often were at war and entered into opposite alliances to defeat each other."

"You feared that I would betray you, like your other brothers," Robin surmised.

There was a long oppressive silence as they stared at each other. Everything was quiet, only the footsteps sounding outside in the corridor. Moodily, Robin of Locksley looked at his liege, puzzlement and confusion apparent in his eyes. The King of England watched the inner struggle in Robin's eyes, his half-brother, guessing how their conversation would end.

The king's lips sighed. In spite of the unpleasantness of the moment, Richard didn't feel so terrible since he had come to Robin. "You are right, Robin. Here, in Acre, I always wondered whether your loyalty to me would have been unconditional and your affection for me so deep if you knew the truth."

Robin stared at him incredulously. "Sire, I don't understand why you made me captain of the private guard if you feared that I would betray you."

"I didn't say that I feared that, but I considered such a grievous opportunity," Richard said, his face turning vulnerable and then suddenly blank. "I didn't think that you would betray me, but you have to agree that my family history demonstrates that brothers not only betray but also try to kill each other."

"I am appalled with a simple thought that a man may wish his brother dead."

"You are different from my other brothers, Robin."

"And that's why you promoted me, milord?"

The lion sighed. "Yes. I didn't think that you could ever try to kill your own brother. Additionally, you also were the most competent man for this job." Another sigh followed. "I could make Robert captain of the private guard, and he was your only rival for this position." He inhaled and exhaled audibly. "But I wanted to keep you closer to myself. Thus, I appointed Robert captain of the second guard and promoted you to your current position."

"I see."

"I deeply cared for you for many years. Over time, I grew to love you very much, Robin."

Robin's face softened at the king's words. Then, angry with himself for his brief lapse and reminding himself that he had been friends with the king for a long time, he spoke gently. "I have always loved you and valued our friendship, sire, and now I value it even more." He held his breath before he permitted a deep intake of air inside his lungs. "I swear on my life, upon all that I hold dear, that I will never betray you. Not earlier and not now and not ever."

Richard smiled kindly. "I am glad to hear that; but you don't need to swear."

"And what are you planning to do with Guy of Gisborne, milord?"

"We will capture this man. He will be executed as a high traitor," the monarch responded dispassionately.

Robin stared at the lion in disbelief. "You cannot be serious."

King Richard gave Robin a long look. "I am very serious, Robin," he said in a metallic voice. "Guy of Gisborne must pay for high treason. He will be hanged, drawn, and quartered."

Robin turned pale, his hands were shaking. "No."

Richard nodded. "Yes."

Robin stared at Richard in sheer horror. He lowered his head. His throat turned dry. His heart was beating faster and faster. He let a long silence reign. He couldn't speak. Numbness overcame him.

§§§

Robin put a hand on his chest, right on his heart. His arms embraced himself and tightened around his chest. He swallowed painfully, aware of the sting of tears in his eyes. Then he swallowed hard again and took a deep, deep breath, the storm of fierce emotion flooding through him. He was shocked with the king's statement about Guy of Gisborne's prospective fate.

"My liege, you cannot order to kill Guy! You cannot execute your own half-brother!" Robin protested passionately. "You won't kill Prince John for his desire to kill you and you won't kill Guy! It is an act of blasphemy to execute your own brother!"

"Guy of Gisborne is a high traitor and he will be executed," the king reiterated. "John is another case."

"Why is John another case? Because he is legitimate and we are bastards?"

Richard looked aggravated. "Holy Mother of God, Robin! Did I ever care that you were born by my mother after her affair? I never cared about that! But Guy of Gisborne's case is different…" His face changed into white fury. "Gisborne tried to kill both you and me. He conspired with the Black Knights to assassinate me and he already attempted regicide once. And he will pay for his crimes."

Robin climbed to his feet, staring at the king with challenge. "I beg you to reconsider your decision, my liege." He shook his head. "Not now when I know the truth. I have to make up for the wrongs caused to Gisborne and his sister. Now I feel even guiltier than before I had read this damned diary."

"Robin, don't be naïve! We have to make him pay for treason, and he will be executed. His death is necessary for my safety and for your safety, too."

Robin tossed his head, his eyes desperate. "No, you cannot kill Guy! Not for my safety and not even for your own safety!"

The lion rose to his feet, displeased. "And who will prevent me from doing that?"

Anger darkened Robin's eyes that turned dark blue from pale blue, his mouth set in grim lines. "You sacrificed Gisborne for me! You didn't care that he is your brother; you let him live in poverty and disgrace somewhere in Normandy. And now you want to execute him."

"Let's change the topic," Richard admonished; he didn't want to quarrel with Robin.

"No, we should speak about Gisborne! He is really guilty and I despise him with all my heart, but he is your half-brother, and that's why you cannot execute Guy!"

The king seemed unfazed, but his patience was running thin. "That's quite enough, Robin. You have forgotten whom you are talking to. I have heard enough of your little angry speech than I wanted to hear, and believe me, I have been very patient. I am sorry you harbor such sentiments towards Gisborne, but that changes nothing," he said resolutely. "Gisborne will be executed on a charge of high treason. You may accept my decision or not; it is your problem."

"No, no, no!" Robin shouted. His chin lifted rebelliously, a bolt of utter rage shooting through him; he tried to keep his roiling emotions in check, but he couldn't. "Sire, please! You cannot execute Guy!"

"You are better to stop right now," the lion warned.

Robin didn't hear the warning, and instead he laughed cruelly. "You wish to execute your own brother because he tried to kill you but failed. But you let John live!"

"I am not pleased with John's treacherous plots and constants attempts to kill or overthrow me, but I cannot execute him and I don't want to take his life. I don't have legitimate children and he has to be my heir, like Arthur. How don't you understand that, Robin?"

"I know that England will be torn apart if you don't name your heir, sire."

The lion rubbed his cheek. "At least here we are on the same page."

"But you share blood with Guy of Gisborne, even if he is a traitor!"

"There can never be absolute peace, Robin. Lives are sacrificed for the greater good."

"Even a life of your own half-brother?" Robin persisted.

"Yes, Robin."

Robin didn't understand the king at that moment. He felt blood run cold in his veins; he glanced at the lion, his eyes blazing with anger. "No, you cannot do that." His tone was decisive.

The king fought with himself to restrain his temper as much as he could. "Robin, stop it! Gisborne is a traitor! He almost killed both of us!" He raised his voice. "I will not let you undermine my authority!"

"I am so disappointed in you, milord," Robin declared boldly. "Now you are not the benevolent and gracious King Richard whom so many people love and respect and whom I have admired and loved for so many years. Now I see only the vengeful king, as cruel as Queen Eleanor who didn't wish to see her own bastard son – me – after she had shipped me off her hands to my father."

Richard frowned, beginning to look very angry, his lips thinning, his eyes narrowing and flaring up with a dangerous fire. His hands clenched into fists, and for one moment he thought of the pleasure it would give him to punch Robin for the stupid outburst of rage.

"You are an utter fool, and, worst of all, an ungrateful fool, Robin of Locksley." The king's voice was tense, indicating that he barely repressed himself from plunging into fury.

"I am not ungrateful! I am–"

"Ungrateful, spoiled, foolish, stubborn, impulsive, and hotheaded," the king summed up in a hissing tone. "While I may forget your disrespect to me, I will never let you accuse our mother of being cruel and heartless. Today you crossed the line and broke the rules of appropriate behavior towards your king and your queen."

Robin felt his knees tremble, and his vision became blurry as nervousness settled in the bottom of his stomach. Yet, rage was still working its way up to the surface. "Did the Queen Mother have to deal with the participants of this charade with my birth?"

Richard averted his eyes. "Some of them were silenced forever; I think they were poisoned. It must have been done for you because we had to make them silent. They couldn't have been allowed to live because nobody could know the truth – it is an utterly important secret."

"How many people?"

"Not very many, actually."

"And what about the servants in Locksley? Didn't they know that their lord's daughter was stillborn?"

"I cannot answer because I don't know these details," Richard returned. "But servants could gossip, and I had to deal with some of them, particularly curious and interested in the truth; I mean the servants whom I met when I delivered you to Locksley after your release from your captivity organized by Bailiff Longthorn."

"You killed for me…" Robin cursed under his breath, shocked by the ghoulish realization of how far they had to go to keep the secret safe and give Robin a life of a lord and an earl.

"I did. She did. For you, for your safety, and for your survival; for all of us."

"Sire, those people were innocent."

"Robin, stop it. I am bored with this conversation," Richard said, his face evolving into harshness, his voice metallic. "If you again ask me to spare Gisborne's life and if you do something to let him escape, I will have to use drastic measures. I will never let you undermine my authority."

Robin was horrified, but his grief with the unexpected revelation, the guilt and agony which the bitter truth had awakened in his heart pushed him to the verge of madness. "And what will you do to me, my liege? Will you execute me like you plan to execute Guy of Gisborne? Or will you order to have me tied up to the poles in the desert and then end my life, like you killed around three thousand prisoners who were brutally slaughtered at your order in the massacre of Acre?"

The king shivered in rage, his eyes narrowing at Robin to slits, his fists clenched. He started pacing the chamber like a caged animal, and then stopped near a table. In one violent motion, he swept all things from there to the floor, candlesticks and glassware flying in all directions. Breathing heavily, his face almost ugly with rage, he struggled to bring his temper under control, but failed.

"You are a stupid boy! You are an ungrateful brat!" King Richard snarled. "If you think–" He broke off, took a deep breath, and snapped, "that I will tolerate such an insult and such humiliation and from you of all people, you are wrong. Goddamn your rage, Robin! Goddamn your self-pity and arrogance! Goddamn your foolishness and ungratefulness!" He marched to Robin and grabbed his shoulders, his large palms shaking the slimmer form to the core. "I will not command to arrest you only because you are my friend and half-brother and because I owe you too much for saving my life so many times."

"And because I am Melisende's husband," Robin said with an immovable firmness.

Richard shot his favorite a contemptuous look. "You are even more foolish than I thought. Or are you too much affected by the truth that you lost your ability to think rationally?" He shook him furiously. "It was our mother's idea to give you Melisende's hand in a marriage in order to protect you from John and make your life safer by tying you to the Plantagenet family."

"I didn't need that. I would–"

"Robin, for Heaven's sake, you must think a little before you speak! You needed this marriage for yourself, for your own protection, after your open rebellion against John in England!"

"I… I…" Robin felt as if he were in a thick mist. Confusion crept into his brain, and emotions were churning inside him. He was unable to define these emotions, but they made him want to shout out loud and tell the world how shocked he was; yet, no words came out.

With his mouth curving in a painful grimace, his forehead marred with a frown, the king shook Robin again, violently and without remorse. "I will never allow you to insult our mother, even if you hate her and hate me for keeping the truth from you and for killing some people to assure your safety." His gaze pierced Robin's face to the core. "She sacrificed too much for you, and you don't deserve it."

"Sacrificed?" Robin looked stupefied.

Richard shook the younger man again. "Yes." He drew away slightly. "I know for sure that many years ago, before she was imprisoned, she had feared to meet you, a small child, because she hadn't wanted to feel any emotional attachment to you. But she failed because she has always loved you from a distance. She has always tried to protect you, with an invisible hand and through me."

"I don't know who I am," Robin babbled, his expression lost and pitiful. "I no longer have a mother. I am not the Earl of Huntingdon. I am not Robin Hood: he died in Sherwood when Marian married Gisborne. I cannot be the Earl of Huntingdon because… I am a bastard."

"You are the Earl of Huntingdon. You are your father's son, and you have a right for the title."

Robin shook his head. "No, no, I don't."

"You are the Earl of Huntingdon, and nobody will ever say otherwise. We took care of that."

"I have no doubt that you did that," the young captain snapped spitefully.

"Spare me your hateful remarks, you fool!" The king shook Robin violently, so violently that Robin thought that his lithe form would be split in halves.

"I… I… didn't mean to be so harsh," Robin defended himself.

"And yet, you are not only mean, but almost insane," the king reproached as he stepped aside.

"It is not easy, sire."

"I understand."

"Thank you," Robin mumbled under his breath.

Richard laughed quietly. "You are so much like our mother, Queen Eleanor," he stated emphatically, the corners of his mouth quirking in a slight smile. "You cannot imagine how much you took after her, not in appearance but in character."

"Is this why you always can predict my actions in advance?"

"Partly because you are similar to her and mainly because I know you too well," Richard answered with a small smile, but his tone was tense. "You possess our mother's impulsiveness changing into coolness in a matter of seconds, her hot and rebellious nature, her poetic and romantic sentimentalism, and her iron will. You are spirited and stubborn like she and I are. You are cruel in rage and often ignorant of those whom you love. And there are many features from your Poitevin roots in your character."

"Which features?"

"Robin, don't disappoint me! You are usually so clever and so quick-witted." The king's voice sounded lighter. "You always have fun as you call it. You thrive in drama and theatrical performances, which is a rare thing for conservative Saxon noblemen who don't understand and appreciate your mischievous nature. Your love for theatrics makes you stand out among all English nobles." He regarded Robin with respect. "I remember how much interested you were in Aquitanian culture and in the art of troubadours when you were at the court in Poitiers. You speak perfect Occitan, unlike the majority of other English lords and ladies."

Robin ran his hand through his hair. "Oh, milord."

"What, my little bird? You usually have so much to say on any subject; don't be shy and silent now." The king laughed; his tone was mocking. "Or do you fear that the lion can eat his little bird?"

Robin smiled slightly. "You will choke with my bones, sire. I am not a delicious Aquitanian food you like so much."

Richard scoffed. "You are better than any kind of delicious food, Robin, especially your sweet tongue."

"Yeah, I know I am not easily embarrassed."

"I know you are not – right now you are insolent."

"I am sorry."

The king shook his head. "No, you are not sorry. I always know when you are lying to me."

Robin looked shamefaced. "You are right, sire. But I am still sorry." In reality, he was close to tears.

"I just know you too well, Robin. Now speak."

"Now I see so many things clearly."

"Certainly, you do because you know the truth."

"Oh," Robin sighed tiredly.

The lion laughed. "There are also many similarities between you and me, but I am more similar to our mother." He smiled with odd tenderness. "You are more high-minded, more generous and kinder than our mother and I could ever be; these qualities always attracted me to you."

"Perhaps."

The king took a step forward, closer to Robin and put his large palms on his captain's shoulders. "Robin, you have to take a hold of yourself." He shook Robin slightly as if he were trying to knock sense into the other man. "Stop pitying yourself and don't be angry with yourself, Robin." He raised his voice. "Self-pity and blind anger don't suit you well."

Robin flinched at the king's words. There was an uncomfortable feeling in the middle of his chest, and he was conscious of a sudden desire to burst into tears of rage and shame. He was confused with the truth. He felt abandoned and betrayed by his true mother, though he had no real reason to feel either, for it appeared that the queen was very loyal to him from shadows. His chest expanded as his heart squeezed with pain, as if a sharp blade of a sword had lacerated his heart. Robin's already guilty conscience was loaded with shame of what he said about Queen Eleanor and of his disrespectful behavior towards Richard.

Robin sighed, guilt knifing through him. "Forgive me, milord," he whispered, looking at the carpet; his eyes filled with hot tears. "It is only my fault that I disappointed and infuriated you."

King Richard only shook his head, disapprovingly looking at Robin, still holding him for his shoulders, and Robin hung his head in shame.

Robin's heart wept, and he opened his mouth to say something else, frantic, hasty words hovering on his lips, but no sound came forth. Instead, Robin choked with a sob that rose to his mouth from his low throat. Tears sprang to his eyes, and Robin closed his eyes.

Suddenly, Robin felt a pair of tender, strong arms embracing him and holding him tightly to someone's broad chest. He vaguely realized that the king hugged him, tenderly and protectively, giving him as much comfort as he could offer to a grown-up man. Robin instinctively wrapped his arms around Richard's back, clinging to the body of his liege as he sobbed his grief into the king's doublet.

"Shhh," the king breathed against Robin's hair. He placed his head on the nape of his half-brother's head, for he was several inches taller than Robin; then he began stroking the thick hair of wheat color. "You are shocked now, but you will get over that."

"I… I don't know what to say." Robin felt tears running openly down both his cheeks; he was unable to fight down the panic and grief, which the truth had caused him.

"Oh, Robin! You became a good and strong man, but you are still so innocent." The lion's hand brushed Robin's back before it traveled up to Robin's hair, and he began stroking it. "You can be such a child."

"Really?"

"Undoubtedly." The king smiled.

"Oh." Robin trembled in the king's embrace.

"Such a child that I even cannot be angry with you after your recent spectacle," Richard murmured into the disheveled sandy hair. "And, truth be told, I don't want you to lose your innocence because this is what makes you so human and so different from others."

"I will never betray you. I swear that I will never betray you," Robin blurted out in trepidation, both amazed and pleased that the king was so compassionate and considerate towards him.

Richard hugged Robin tighter, and they froze in a warm, affectionate embrace. "You will be fine, Robin. I understand that you are confused and shocked. The truth injured your tender heart, which is what we have always feared. Now, when you know the truth, you should act like a mature, grown-up person."

"How, then?"

"No anger. No bitterness. No hatred. No childish and angry outbursts. No ungratefulness. Only acceptance of the truth, and then resignation," the lion explained, his arms pulling his younger favorite and brother even tighter to him. "Don't be too much upset. Don't dwell on the past. You shouldn't blame us because we only tried to protect you."

Robin glanced up at the king, tears glittering in his eyes, making them crystalline; his face was a picture of despair and guilt. "I am so sorry, milord."

The Lionheart smiled faintly. "Accepted." Then he drew back and took a step back.

"Thank you," Robin said humbly.

The king patted Robin's shoulder. "For what?"

"For being honest with me. For telling me the truth. For protecting me for so many years."

The lion waved his head. "That is not very much to do for you."

"I shouldn't have been so disrespectful," Robin said hollowly. "I know that I was wrong."

"You were wrong," the king agreed, narrowing his eyes at Robin. "And I want you to remember that this is the first and the last time when I forgive you for your outrageous and disrespectful behavior towards our mother, the queen, and me." His voice sounded metallic. "If you let yourself act in the same manner again, you will have to suffer severe consequences, Robin."

Robin swallowed hard; he lowered his head in dismay and fear. "I will remember that, sire."

"I trust you will."

Robin didn't dare look at the king. "Thank you."

"Robin, look at me," Richard addressed him meaningfully, his voice suddenly soft.

Only now Robin gazed at his liege. "Yes?"

"No one must know the truth. It must be kept in secret. This is necessary for your own life and for protecting our mother's reputation, not speaking about political stability in the Angevin Empire. You must never – never ever – share this information with someone else. This is too dangerous and risky."

Robin gave a nod. "I understand that very well. Nobody will ever learn something from me." There was disappointment mingled with relief across his face, and then he laughed with a hollow laugh.

"If your temper cools off, you will realize that the truth is not bad at all."

"I don't know…"

"You are too confused now. You will get over that."

"I hope so," Robin said dubiously.

"You will, I know."

"I will try."

The lion gave a tender smile. "You should go to your wife; she must be waiting for you. We will talk tomorrow when your head is clearer and when you are well rested. Now leave."

Robin bowed to the king and hastily retreated to the door. He paused near the door, hesitating; he turned around and looked at the king, who smiled and nodded at him. Then Robin bowed again and walked out of the room, signaling his permission to leave. As he walked to his bedroom, where Melisende was waiting for him, he swore that he would do everything in his power to change Richard's opinion about Guy's execution; at least he had to try again.

King Richard sighed heavily; he was relieved that the conversation with Robin was over. It was a long and difficult conversation, but the lion was unusually relieved that now Robin knew everything, although he was still angry that Robin insisted to spare Guy's life; he had already decided to execute Guy, whatever Robin would tell him, even if he had to quarrel with the younger man.

The king crouched and took Malcolm of Locksley's diary in his hands. It was clear that Robin would learn the truth about his father's survival in the fire sooner or later, and Richard dreaded the moment of the final revelation, fearing to bring more bitterness and confusion into Robin's life. Richard didn't wish to be a person who would open the painful truth to Robin, breaking his half-brother's heart again.

The king planned to read Malcolm's diary tonight; he was really interested to learn more about the man who was presumed to be dead for so long. Then Richard intended to destroy the diary as they didn't need to have written proof of Robin's true parentage. Malcolm of Locksley was a complete idiot as he hadn't destroyed such an important piece of evidence before he had gone into hiding, the lion thought. He thanked God that nobody had found the diary in the jewelry box for so many years.

* * *

><p><em>I hope you truly enjoyed this chapter and the plot.<em>

_Well, I promised you that I would update very soon after the New Year, and I am not going back on my word. Here we go – you have the beginning of drama in Acre._

_Finally, Robin and his friends achieve piece in the Holy Land, which is a great victory for King Richard and every Crusader who fought the bloody and pointless war for the liberation of Jerusalem for so many years. The terms and conditions of the peace treaty with Saladin mentioned in this story are historically correct: pilgrims were given a safe passage to Jerusalem only if they could present King Richard's banner and only for three years, and the French were given no privileges despite rather significant role of some French generals, like Hugh de Burgundy, in the capture of Acre._

_In real history, King Richard didn't meet Saladin in person: the king's representatives, including Sir Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, and Sir Henry de Champagne, Count de Champagne and King of Jerusalem, negotiated the terms of the peace treaty and signed the treaty with Saladin's representatives. Of course, I included Robin and Carter into the king's party: Robin, the peace lover and the king's savior, has to bring long-awaited peace into the Holy Land, while Carter is positioned as one of the king's favorites. According to my rigorous research, Saladin's representatives included Saladin's eldest surviving son Prince Al-Afdal and several other sheikhs, but I also brought into the picture Prince Malik as canonical character, for the man has a connection to Robin._

_Finally, the sensational event happened and the dark secrets of the past begin to unveil (remember the name of this story). Now Robin of Locksley knows the truth about his true lineage! As I promised, this chapter is utterly important for Robin and King Richard because they unexpectedly have to face each other in an entirely new light – not only as a King and his subject, as friends and as a mentor and his protégé, but also as close relatives in accordance with the captivating plot I invented._

_Now all the questions about Robin's true parentage and how he could be the queen's golden boy are finally answered: Robin finds all the answers in Malcolm's secret diary, and later Richard tells Robin many facts and they also discuss them. If you are still confused with something, then I recommend that you go to the author's notes of chapter 10 in part 1 of this long epic, for you can find there a detailed and easily readable summary of the back story for Robin and Guy. I often write explanations or references to historical events in author's notes for your better understanding or if I want remind you of something important which you could have forgotten._

_Do you have any thoughts about Malcolm? He is certainly an impudent, nasty, and hypocritical man, right? Robin is a much better man than his father has ever been!_

_I do really feel for Robin. It was surely a very emotional and overdramatic moment for Robin. Robin is shocked, confused, frustrated, astonished, angry, and furious, for it is not easy for him to accept the truth about the fact that his life was full of life and illusions. Robin feels betrayed, and deceived, and offended, but I don't see how he can be angry with King Richard in the situation when Queen Eleanor and Richard protected him for so many years and saved his life. So Robin remembers the only real feeling he has among his conflicting emotions – it is his love for King Richard. _

_The shocking revelations change everything in Robin's life and in Guy's life, too, and you will see what I mean in the next chapters. Robin knows the truth about Guy – he knows that Guy is King Richard's half-brother on paternal side; Robin knows about Richard's large contribution to Guy's unhappiness. Robin also learns that Malcolm had an affair with Ghislane and that she gave birth to Archer. Of course, Robin is acting completely in character: he is noble and he doesn't want to let the king execute his own half-brother even if Guy is guilty and Robin loathes him. In real history, King Richard was a cruel and vengeful man, as well as a very practical man, and Richard's desire to execute Guy for his crimes and high treason despite Robin's pleas comes across as a natural thing for Richard._

_But I ask you not to worry, my dear readers and devoted fans of Guy. I will ease your fears right now: Guy won't be executed at the king's order, but something else – something very serious – will happen. _

_It was a very difficult chapter to write, one of the most difficult in part 2 of Quintessence. It was particularly difficult to write about Robin's reaction to the great revelation, and I had to re-write it several times. Robin even has a little scandal with the king, but they finally reconcile and have a sweet moment when Robin cries in the king's embrace; I wanted to show vulnerability and emotionality in Robin, who is always guarding his emotions so tightly and wears his masks of a cheeky rogue._

_In the next chapter, Vaisey, Guy, and others finally arrive in Acre. Chapter 5 is mainly devoted to the Sheriff, Guy, Marian, and a little to Archer, more to Guy than to anybody else. Vaisey will begin to prepare for regicide attempt, and then something very dramatic and tragic will follow._

**_I really ask you – I even beg you – to leave at least a small review to this chapter because I am really worried about this serious and dramatic chapter_**_. Although the chapters about the regicide attempt have already been written and are currently being edited, I have to say that I do really feel nervous when I share them with you, and this is the reason why I beseech you to share my opinion with me (which I never did before, but which I do really need now). At least, tell me is it good or bad – nothing else; but I really tried to be fair and reasonable._

**_Reviews are always appreciated, including well-grounded criticism._**

_If you find any typos and/or mistakes here, please let me know about them in a private message. _

_Thank you for reading this chapter. Have a lovely weekend._

_Yours faithfully, __Penelope Clemence_


	6. Chapter 5 The Shores of Acre

**Chapter 5**

**The Shores of Acre**

Taking a deep breath, Robin opened the door of his new bedchamber in the Citadel of Acre, which he shared with Melisende. Utter and complete blackness met his gaze. Since there was no sign of light, it seemed that no one was inside. Groping through the darkness, he strode forward to the bed, as quickly and silently as he could in the smothering blackness. As he sat on the bed, he felt a hand on his arm.

"Don't be afraid, Robin. It's me," Melisende purred. "Where have you been? I have been waiting for you for more than an hour!"

"I… was with the king… with… Richard…" Robin stumbled with words, not knowing how to address to the king who was his sovereign, friend, and half-brother.

Melisende chuckled. "That's why you are so excited and agitated?" Like a kitten, she rubbed her cheek against his chest. "Now I am very jealous of you to Richard. Like you, I am utterly loyal to him and I would die for him, but I may become jealous if he takes you away from me for so long."

An amused Robin laughed. "Are really so jealous of me to our dear king?"

"Just a little, not very much."

"Really?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "I will do everything for Richard. I will die for him."

Robin tipped her face up toward him; then he kissed her warmly. "And you are a darling! I am the most fortunate man to have you as my wife, for you understand my loyalty to Richard."

Melisende and Robin held their ultimate loyalty to the king and England, which was passionate and unconditional. They both loved Richard and viewed him not as the great Coeur de Lion, the great warrior and the powerful King of England, not as a mere symbol of both bravery and cruelty, but as a man, with his strengths and weaknesses, each of which they understood very well.

With a finger that almost trembled, she delicately traced his jaw line features. "I will never make you choose between your duty and myself, Robin. This is not right."

Robin gasped in amazement, thinking that the king had probably told his cousin something about his unfortunate betrothal to Marian; but he said nothing on the matter. "Thank you for that."

Robin bent his head and kissed Melisende. At the feel of her soft lips beneath his, the sensation of her slender body pressing against his, desire turned all the more powerful and intense by the knowledge that she would never make him choose between Richard and herself; now he had no choice at all because he would sacrifice everything for his half-brother.

His kiss deepened, and his hands started undoing the fastening of her nightgown and her fingers undoing his trousers. As they removed their clothes, he threw himself upon her and kissed her hungrily, his tongue seeking entrance to the warmth of her lips, and she opened her mouth to give him what he sought. His body felt as if it were on fire, yearning for his wife's touch and for taking her, his loins aching and demanding release from the increasingly voluptuous sensations that racked him.

Robin lifted her and with something between a growl and a groan began to sink slowly within her. They joined together, and he thought of nothing, nothing except for the slick heat of her body and the exquisite softness of her flesh as he drove himself deeper and deeper into her. He heard her soft cry of pleasure and could feel the tremors racing through her body. Groaning aloud, he thrust more violently into her welcoming warmth, reveling in the sensations that cascaded through him. When the white mist of fulfillment exploded in his mind and he found pure ecstasy.

It was a long time before Robin could bring himself to slide from Melisende. He drew her into his arms and held her tightly for a long moment. The earth finally stopped spinning and Melisende sighed contentedly, finding herself firmly enclosed in a pair of his strong arms. He was strangely satisfied, but he was also aware of a feeling of possession, of an innate tenderness that he felt for her.

"At least I have you," Robin muttered, his voice hoarse, still drugged by passion.

Melisende raised a quizzical brow. "What do you mean?"

Robin shut his eyes tightly. "My life is becoming very strange. I don't know who I am."

"Are you alright, Robin?" she cried out, her voice concerned.

Robin hugged her tighter. The moon appeared from behind the dark cloud, and his eyes were now accustomed to the darkness, so that he could see her rather well. Something deep and tender sparked the depths of his pale blue eyes.

"Many things happened. My life changed. We are married for only three months, but I can say that now you are my only constant in this life," he murmured. "Everything else changes too fast – too fast to accept it and think that I am not going mad."

"Why are you saying this?" Melisende asked, idly stroking his chest.

"If you want to know, then ask Richard. If he thinks that you can learn the truth, then so be it," Robin, snapped, pulling the silken cover upward with unhidden lust in his eyes.

"Richard?" She was confused.

Robin bent his head down and began kissing her neck. "Yes, Richard."

"What happened?"

"Nothing, nothing," he murmured. "I think there are more pleasant things to do, no?"

Her cheeks flushed. "Yes, there are."

"Beautiful!" he murmured as he buried his face in her hair.

"I didn't know," she said softly.

"What?" He raised his head from the curve of her arm and looked at her, kissing her cheek.

"I didn't know that you are such a wonderful man when you caught my eye on Cyprus."

He ran a strand of her shining hair through his fingers. "Why are you saying that?"

"It is true, Robin. You knew that I liked you in the moonlit garden, didn't you?"

He grinned smugly. "From the first moment I saw you in the moonlight."

"I guess this marriage didn't work out exactly as you probably planned, did it?" she asked him.

"No, definitely, no," he purred.

Melisende ran a caressing finger down his cheek. "Robin, I didn't want to love you. I resisted with all my being, but I was powerless… It is not like it was with Leicester…" she murmured.

He cringed at her words. "Forgive me," he whispered, his eyes moving over her slender form.

"There is nothing to forgive, Robin." She threaded her ﬁngers through his sandy hair. "It is alright if you don't love me."

"It is wrong," Robin murmured quietly as his hands framed her face.

"Wrong?"

"Yes, my dear."

"I know that you planned to marry another woman – Lady Marian," she said tonelessly.

His body tensed, but he didn't pull away from her. "Did Richard tell you something?"

"Richard said nothing and I didn't ask him, but Robert de Beaumont told me everything."

"Well, I expected that Robert would take an initiative and would inform you about my past." He traced her lips with his fingers, feeling the corners of her mouth lift slightly.

Shaking her head slightly, Melisende smiled softly and unerringly laid her palm against his cheek. "Sometimes you remind me of a child."

"You are not the first one who is telling me that." With curiosity, he noticed that his memories about Marian and their past were no longer painful. Did that mean that he was slowly healing from pain and heartache, which Marian's betrayal had inflicted on him?

"And not the last one." She smiled. "Do you really think that Robert can somehow hurt you?"

"No."

"Robert told me the truth about your two betrothals to this lady because he is worried about you. He wishes you to be happy, and for this reason he told me the truth about her betrayal of your love."

"I know, Melisende." He sighed. "I am very grateful to Robert for his care, although I was also going to tell you everything. And I myself will also do it soon."

"As you wish, Robin. I will listen to you whenever you wish."

"Thank you."

"Robin, I swear that I will never betray you."

He smiled. "I believe you." He had dimples in his cheeks when he smiled.

She fluttered her long eyelashes up and down. "Do you love Lady Marian?"

"A part of my heart will always love Marian," Robin said with resignation, sighing and looking away. "But the other part of my heart died after her marriage to Gisborne." He reached out his right hand and cupped her chin; he glanced into her eyes. "And this part of my heart is no longer as gray and frozen. I feel content. I feel that I want to live. And it is so only thanks to you, Melisende."

She smiled bleakly. "Robin, I love you, with all my heart."

"And I am very fond of you… I think I am falling for you," he confessed.

"Robin," she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek.

Robin closed his eyes and pressed Melisende closer to himself. She was his wife, and he thought that it was wonderful to know it was true. Melisende was his wife in truth, and nothing in the world could change that; nothing, excluding death. He suddenly felt that his life became much simpler. He said farewell to his old life, to the old world which, bound in its cruel and treacherous framework of Marian's betrayal and his ruined dreams, could offer him nothing but a narrow, limited existence and endless, unbearable pain. He was finally moving on, although he knew that a part of his heart and soul would be forever occupied by his love and devotion to Marian.

"You are amazing, Melisende. I am a lucky man that I am your husband," Robin said, his lips close to her hair. "I need you to know that."

"And I am lucky to have you as my husband, friend, and lover, Robin. I will be grateful for every moment we are granted by God, every day for the rest of my life."

Leaning over her on one elbow, he looked at her, his lashes half-closed and his mouth curved into a smile. "As long as you are so close to me, sweetheart, I don't give a damn what mischief you and I are up to. If we like something, we will do that."

Her eyes sparkled knavishly. "What exactly do you want?"

A sensual curve to his full lower lip, Robin laughed huskily. "Yeah, I wouldn't force you to do any kind of mischief, but I have enough confidence in my own ability to make you welcome… something new."

"I don't mind." The wicked gleam appeared in her violet eyes.

They were both breathing hard, and then he kissed her hungrily, hotly, with great and obvious relish. Giddy with the deep emotions flooding her body, Melisende welcomed his liberties as he caressed her body in the ennoble fashion, shuddering as stronger, more powerful sensations began to wreak havoc within her. Nuzzling her hair and breathing in the scent of lavender and rose water, Robin wished that they could stay like that forever.

Robin lifted her atop of him and penetrated into her body; she gasped in surprise and then laughed merrily. He dissolved all his pain and fury in the violent and passionate lovemaking with his wife, taking blatant possession of her and enjoying her body like he would have enjoyed sweet ambrosia all in one. He didn't think of anything else at those minutes, his world filled only with passion for his wife and desire to forget everything that hurt him in real life.

Robin raised his head and looked at the window, which was not draped by the curtains. The pale light of the early morning clothed the hills around the bay in bluish mist, and the dark clouds were shuffling in the sky. Somewhere far away, on the horizon, the dark sky was tinged with the rosy color of sunrise, but hardly noticeable lightning bolts were flashing silently in the distance.

Despite the shocking revelations about his past and his true origins, he was relieved that he had learnt the truth, even though it was not the truth he wanted to hear. His marital bliss, unexpected and welcome, made the acceptance of the truth easier. Yet, his heart was filled with bad forebodings and fear that something in his life would go wrong. He struggled to free himself of fear and confusion, but with a maddening clarity, he felt that the worst would certainly come when they would not expect that.

Robin hoped to have peaceful sleep after his passionate lovemaking with his lovely wife. Instead, gripped by powerful nightmares, Robin tossed and turned on the bed, jerking his head up and down, his lips slightly twitching, his head spinning. Another dreadful nightmare replaced the visions of the battlefield of Acre, and Robin dreamt of the Saracen attack when Guy wounded him from the back. But this time the nightmare of the same attack was more ferocious and somehow special.

In his dream, the pain from the penetration of cold steel in his flesh was so real, so painful, and so sharp that Robin awoke in a cold sweat, his heart thundering in his chest, the hot blood running faster in his veins. He lay still, very still, breathing slowly, and unable to move his limbs, feeling mortal terror running through him so deep that it made him tremble. In today's dream about the Saracen attack, he felt death closer to him than he had ever felt before.

The stillness reigned in the room, breached by his labored breathing, as well as by the quiet twittering of birds in the garden and the distant, faint murmur of the sea. He sat in the bed and stared into the darkness, his heart thundering so wildly that its rhythm was nearly suffocating him.

Robin dragged a deep, painful breath, holding it for an unreasonably long time. He was horrified in the wake of his new nightmare, trying to persuade himself that the dream was only a product of his imagination. In an instant, he could hear his heartbeat, strong and now steady.

Melisende also awoke. She turned her head and eyed Robin. "Robin, what happened?" She reached for him and wrapped her arm around his back.

"I am fine." Robin felt that it was impossible to endure such intensity of emotion for long.

"Did you have a nightmare?" She was stroking his thick sandy-colored hair; she loved his hair so much, loved that it was cut in an impish, roguish style.

"Yes." He inhaled shakily, his body tensed.

"It is over, my love," Melisende said softly.

Robin drew a deep breath and released it shakily. "In my dream, I was wounded in the Saracen attack," he said in a shaking voice. "I often dream of that night." He trembled.

Melisende took his hands gently in hers, and Robin turned to face her. She brought her palm tenderly down his face, over scratchy stubble of his beard.

"You are alive. You will be fine," she assured him, glancing into his eyes.

Robin bit his trembling lip and looked down. After a moment he said, "I am so happy that I am not alone. I need your wisdom and perhaps even your protection… from myself, from the darkness that lives in my heart." He gripped her hands tighter. "Don't leave me."

Melisende's violet eyes burned with emotion. "I will be with you, Robin. I promise."

"You have brought me more comfort than your beautiful face or your gorgeous figure could." He smiled vaguely. "I feel such a deep affection and gratitude towards you."

"By Christ and by any God, Robin of Locksley, I love you with all my heart." Her avowal was whispered with tenderness and awe. "It is forever, Robin Hood, forever.'" And he thought that she meant it.

"I want to love you so much," Robin whispered.

Melisende leaned over him, her full breasts grazing his chest, the tips of her long red-gold hair tickling his skin. "Then love me… until death do us part." She sealed the bargain, her mouth on his.

"Until death do us part," Robin murmured. "I am yours, truly, irrevocably forever, until my death." He ran his hand up her back to gently grasp a thick handful of red-gold hair.

Robin kissed her so completely, so fully, and so fiercely that she could feel their hearts beating in unison. When he released her they stood breathless, their cheeks pressed together.

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers, then pulling her close, wrapped his arm around her waist, like a veil between the worlds. He buried his head into her shoulder and felt her tender hand stroking his hair on the nape of his head.

"Your nightmares will stop troubling you soon," Melisende crooned, stroking his head like a newborn's.

"Don't leave me," Robin murmured. He felt all of his worldly burdens slip away with the soothing stroke of her hand and with a long sigh of relief.

"I won't leave you," the musical voice said. "You are not alone."

Robin drew back from their embrace. He gazed into her eyes and smiled, and Melisende smiled back at him. Something told him that they would experience the mystery of doom and death together. Maybe they both were doomed to find peace together.

Melisende wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him with the soul stirring passion that, for a moment, took her away from everything but Robin. Her heart was crying out that maybe, just maybe, Robin would finally, truly be hers! If only this was possible, she mused; if only he forgot the woman who broke his heart and caused him so much pain. If only he could give his heart to her and only to her, she would live in this joy for the rest of her life.

§§§

The wind intensified and the storm ravaged, but Guy of Gisborne stood on the deck of the ship carrying the sheriff, him and his party from Cyprus to Acre. He leaned out over the starboard rail, peering down into the waters below. He stood with his legs spread, his knees flexing against the erratic, unpredictable movements of the ship's deck, and his right elbow hooked around a rope that stretched up like an iron bar into the mass of rigging above his head.

"It is dangerous to stay here, Gisborne," Guy heard the voice behind him.

Guy turned his gaze and looked at Prince John's assassin. "What are you doing here?"

Archer grinned. "If I were in your shoes, I would go to your cabin."

"Why should I?" Guy looked at the black canopy of heaven that seemed to mingle with the raging sea.

"The beautiful Lady Marian is alone," Archer said calmly.

Guy narrowed his eyes at the younger man. "What do you want from my wife?"

"Absolutely nothing. I just think that women are worried in such storms."

"The storm is bad."

"It will be worse in the night," Archer said rhetorically. "The storms in the Mediterranean Sea can be much more violent than even the storm we will see this night. Even in the summer, there can be quite violent storms in these waters. In this case, our ship will be wrecked somewhere and we will die. Another option is that our ship could be driven to the direction different from our route, dependent on the whims and ferocity of the winds."

Gisborne looked curious. "You know so much about the storms in the Mediterranean Sea."

Archer smiled knowingly. "I do know many things about the sea waters in the East. I spent many years in the East, mainly in the Byzantine Empire and Antioche."

"You seem to have many adventures," Guy said, impressed.

Archer grunted deep in his chest. "Once I travelled from Limassol to Constantinople. My ship was severely damaged during a violent autumn storm, and less than a day after that we were attacked and sunk by corsairs. They didn't want to sink us, of course. They wanted our cargo, but the ship went down. I suspect it might have foundered even without their attack, for it was badly holed."

"But you survived." Guy's voice showed surprise. "How many died, then?"

Archer's headshake was barely discernible. "It shames me to admit that I have no idea, because I paid no attention to such things, for I was too absorbed in my own problems to take note what others did. And then, when I needed to know, it was too late. But there were a lot of them." He smiled smugly. "I always lived only for myself. Anyway, I was one of only five survivors."

"You were lucky." Guy caught himself on the verge of commenting that he hated ships and storms.

"Yes, I was." Archer gave a small smile. "It is not the first time when I am going to the Holy Land."

The man in black leather was bewildered. "Not the first time?"

Archer nodded, then sighed. "But last time I was here because I traveled in the East."

"You are a strange man, assassin. There is something that we don't know about you."

Archer averted his gaze. The bitter truth of Guy's words was like a blade in his heart as soon as their gazes met. He was swept up in the storms raging in Guy's eyes, knowing he would have to pretend and lie into Guy's face again, for he didn't plan to tell Guy the truth about his true origins.

"Memories made me somewhat… nostalgic," Archer replied, grinning, but then his expression turned serious, almost harsh. "I had many adventures and lived in poverty because my father placed me in an orphanage in several days after my birth." He laughed bitterly. "And then suddenly I learnt the truth about my birth." He paused, for an instant. "I was in the Byzantine Empire, in Constantinople, when… one old man told me the truth about my birth. I learnt that I have a grown-up half-brother who is several years older than I am. My brother had everything while I had nothing."

Guy eyed him with interest. "Are you a bastard of a nobleman?"

Archer stiffened. "Yes, I am a bastard of a nobleman and a noblewoman." He let out a cynical laugh. "My half-brother, my father's legitimate son, inherited everything – many estates and large wealth."

"And you want your brother dead?"

"I wanted him dead for a long, long time." Archer sighed, his eyes focused on some distant point. "But I am not so sure now."

"Why?"

Archer's gaze sharpened as looked at Guy. "I have heard many incredible things about him."

"If you want to kill him, then you should just do that," Guy said resolutely.

Archer looked at him with cold disdain. "I am a rogue, a cheat, and a knave. I killed people if they wanted to take my life or if I defended someone else. I also killed several people when I became a professional assassin, but only a few people; I cannot say that I am pleased with what I did."

Guy scowled. "Oh, no, please. You remind me of Robin Hood."

"Really?" Archer grinned sheepishly.

"I had enough of Hood's talk about non-killing. I refuse to hear it again," Guy snapped angrily.

"No." Archer raised a hand in protest. "Don't place that on me. I am not Robin Hood, and I don't want to be Robin Hood." He gave him a fierce glare. "And yet, taking a human life is not an easy thing."

"Then damn you for becoming an assassin if you cannot kill your enemies in cold blood like this weakling Hood cannot do this." Guy's tone was nowhere near as caustic as the words themselves. "Seriously, why did you want the contract on the capture of Robin Hood if you have such an opinion about the value of human life?"

"I guess I am not as cruel and brutal as you are."

Guy narrowed his eyes to slits. "You risk being killed here and now, assassin."

Archer shrugged when he saw a fierce look on Guy's face. "Then try to do that." He chuckled. "And I will show you my excellent swordplay that so much impressed Lord Walter Sheridan who told me that I am as good with a sword as Robin of Locksley." He pointed at Guy. "And I have heard many legends about Robin Hood's skills with a bow and a sword."

Guy released a deep, deep breath, trying to regain his composure. "Hood is not the best swordsman in the Angevin Empire," he snapped angrily.

"And neither are you, Gisborne," Archer teased. "Sheridan told me that Sir Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, is a prime example of the best swordsman in Christendom, as well as King Richard himself. Sheridan said that Hood is outstanding with a sword, but that not the best."

"I heard the same."

"Oh, it is good that you agreed with me. I guess you are not as arrogant and haughty as Robin Hood?"

"Definitely, not."

"But you always kill more easily than Robin Hood?" Archer smiled impudently.

"Stop teasing me, assassin," Guy growled, barely holding on his temper.

"Oh, Gisborne, you have my warmest sympathies that you are so nervous and intemperate." Archer laughed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "But I don't blame you for being so unbalanced because your master is a crazy madman who is dragging you to hell." He shrugged. "Anyway, it is not my concern."

"Shut up," Guy hissed.

"Aye, indeed. I will shut up." Archer flashed a sideways glance at Guy, grinning at him. "But if I don't speak, your life will be dull and much less bright, Gisborne."

Guy blinked at that, but said nothing more about that because he became acutely aware that Archer was teasing him with purpose – to make him angry and see what he would do. Archer was a strange man, for he didn't behave like a typical profit-looking assassin, at least not in the contract on the murder of King Richard and Robin Hood. There was something strange in Prince John's assassin and something familiar, for his cheeky grins and his pale blue eyes reminded Guy so much of Robin Hood.

Tenebrous clouds scurried across the inky sky beneath which the sea was erupting in all directions. From time to time, the small ship was enveloped by the non-transparent mist, which was so thick that it was hard to tell whether it belonged to the sky or to the vast expanse of the raging sea. The ship passed the wave of mist, but only to rush headlong into another wall of mist.

Despite blowing wind and cold, Archer and Guy continued staying on the deck. The wind blew harder and harder, and the ship was moving in the middle of a howling storm at sea.

"Gisborne," Archer called, and quirked one side of his mouth in a humorless grin, "I know that you are also travelling to Acre for the second time. Prince John told me that you failed to kill the king after Robin Hood had stopped you from killing the Lionheart."

Guy felt the jab, not only of his carefully worded insult but also of his deliberate reference to the fact that Prince John shared the details of this story with him. "Be very careful with me, Archer."

Archer laughed, inclining his head slightly. "Gisborne, I know that you are in the dire circumstances of your own. Prince John told me why you want to kill Robin Hood. You must have been truly desperate to retake everything you lost when the Gisborne lands were included in the Locksley estates."

Guy gritted his teeth, his face turned purple in black fury. The shadowy array of emotions that swept across his face in the charged silence that followed might have made any other man run away from Guy, but Archer wasn't a coward. Archer lived through far too much of his own pain and met far too many different men, ranging from dangerous pirates to low criminals and to mighty lords and Princes, to fear the men like the sheriff and Guy and indulge that kind of visible weakness.

Guy got a hold of his emotions quickly. His eyes glittered at the Prince's assassin, cool blue and filled with a stunning blend of anger and pain. "Prince John told you my story, didn't he?"

Archer kept his back stiff, never taking his gaze from Guy's face. "Gisborne, you were at the royal court in London many times. You should know Prince John." He laughed. "The prince enjoys playing with people's fates, and if he cannot do that at the particular time, he makes a jest of those people and mocks them. It is like a sport for him – to make jest of someone and enjoy it."

"I know," Guy answered darkly.

Archer looked at Guy, attentively. "Why do you endure so much humiliation from the Sheriff? I would have killed him a long time ago if I had been in your shoes."

Guy scowled. "It is not your deal."

"Don't be offended, Gisborne. I asked out of mere curiosity," Archer shot back. "Lord Vaisey must have spent considerable energy cultivating position of favor with Prince John. And it is well known at the court that not many courtiers like Vaisey. His fate is dependent only on the Prince's favor."

Guy's fists clenched. "Leave me alone."

Archer made a mocking bow. "I am leaving, Gisborne," he said, laughing merrily. "Don't worry. This storm will be worse, but it won't kill us. There could be much more violent storms than this one."

Archer left the deck, but his words about Vaisey echoed mockingly through Guy's heart, underscoring the heart-wrenching truth that Vaisey's future depended exclusively on Prince John's favor. If King Richard survived, he would execute Vaisey and the Black Knights, and Guy would die together with his master. And no matter how much it hurt, Guy knew that it was the absolute truth.

Guy looked into the dark expanse of the stormy sea. Guy didn't know whether he wanted to go to Acre. He feared the events in Acre. For some reason, Guy feared to see Robin face-to-face. He feared the outcome of the new regicide attempt. But the trip continued, and Acre was somewhere ahead.

After Archer had left, Guy stood on the right deck, looking into the waves of the raging sea, but could see almost nothing due to the mist. He was shocked that they had sailed in such a violent storm, in spite of the captain's insistence to wait in Limassol; Vaisey acted like a madman, totally obsessed with the desire to kill King Richard and to reap the fruits of their victory.

Through the waves crashing over the side, Guy caught a glimpse of the sailors, clinging to the wheel and the decks, their backs bent against the raging wind. Someone shouted to him that he should have gone to the cabin and wait there. He looked down at himself and saw that he was soaked to the skin but he was so locked in his thoughts that he didn't care to notice before. Suddenly feeling cold and not wishing to risk being swept overboard, he made up his mind to go to the cabin.

Instead of going to himself, Guy decided to call on Isabella at first. He was slowly making his way through the damp, dark corridor, cursing the small vessel and the storm. As the ship bolted by the wave of the strong wind, Guy stumbled into the wooden wall and made a step forward, then opened the door and came into the small cabin where Isabella was held prisoner.

He heard two people talking, but they stopped abruptly and they stared at him. He saw Isabella on the floor, on a old straw mattress, not even on the bed, her head leaning on a blanket-covered saddle; Archer sat on the floor next to her and talked to her, soothing her fears born by the storm.

Guy's eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise. "You are here! What are you doing here?"

Archer turned to face him. "Lady Isabella is frightened because of the storm."

"She doesn't need your help! Get out of here!" Guy ordered roughly.

Archer grinned impudently. "And why should I?"

"Get out. Now," Guy said, almost hissing each word. "Leave me with my sister."

"Sir Guy, you may command your men, but I don't belong to you," Archer said, almost rudely. "I have no allegiance to anyone or anyplace, and certainly not to you or Vaisey."

Guy scoffed. "So you are your own man?"

"I am only interested in self-preservation and making my living on the margins. As Prince John hired me for the expedition to the Holy Land, I obey the Prince," Archer said brusquely, his head high.

"Leave. Right now," Guy hissed at last through clenched teeth.

As his gaze fell on Archer's scimitar and another short curved sword, both weapons drawn in two golden scabbards on his waist, Guy felt the urge to cross swords with the assassin. Vaisey said that Archer was a highly-skilled swordsman and an expert in exotic arms and dangerous developments after many years spent in the East. Guy himself was an outstanding swordsman and knew his own strengths. He wondered whether he could have beaten Archer in a fair combat.

"Or what?" Archer asked, grinning at him sheepishly.

Guy shuddered. An unfamiliar lump came into his throat, a lump which may have been to do with fear of recognition. "Or I will kill you right now," he threatened.

"Don't forget that I am Prince John's man on this mission," Archer retorted arrogantly, getting to his feet; the he walked to the door.

Isabella saluted her brother with a sardonic smile. "What do you want?"

Guy looked down at his sister. "How are you?"

"What is it? Why do you care?" she asked quickly, alarmed by his mysterious behavior.

"I came to ask what you need."

"I need nothing from you," Isabella snapped. "The months were only a little better than the years I spent with my husband, though I am not beaten now, only chained and gagged."

"If you need nothing, then I bid you good night," he said, intending to leave.

"You owe me one thing."

Her sharp voice stopped him. He turned to face her. "What?"

Isabella stared at him, her blue eyes darkened briefly. "Why don't you make Vaisey release me? Why do you allow him to humiliate me, your sister? It that because I failed you?"

"Shut up, Isabella."

She was going to be insistent; she needed an answer to the question that tormented her since the day of her marriage. "Why did you give me to Squire Thornton? Did I fail you in the childhood, too?" As he started moving towards the door, she sprang forward and moved as far as her chains let her go, spurred on by burning hatred for Guy, which crystallized all her loathing and disgust. "Why won't you answer me? Don't you owe me that at least?"

Her sudden gesture stopped him, and he half turned to her. "I owe you nothing. I did what was best."

"You did nothing but condemn me to hell and I demand to know why," she said stiffly.

"You are a foolish girl and you don't understand the world."

"No, Guy. I understand many things perfectly well. I just want to hear it from you," Isabella said in a demanding tone. "Why did you give me to Squire Thornton? Why did you do that?"

Gisborne didn't dare look at her. "Thornton offered a fair price for you; that's why I did that."

There was a moment's shocked silence. The siblings looked at one another, Isabella with her eyes wide in horror and shock and Guy with a cold gaze that was not without hardness.

"No, no, no," Isabella gasped breathlessly.

"So do you still think that you needed my protection when you ran away from your husband?" Guy's voice sounded far away, and he forced the words to come out.

A tear fell from her eye. "Just leave," she whispered.

At that moment, Archer appeared at the doorway. "Are you alright, Lady Isabella?"

There was a sudden, and all eyes riveted on Isabella's worn features. She smiled painfully. "Haven't you guessed yet?" she inquired wearily. "Do I look like I am alright?"

Archer shook his head, staring at her intently. "No, you don't, my lady."

"Get out. You are annoying me," Guy said from between gritted teeth.

"Will you try to kill me if I stay? Like Vaisey killed Guy de Lusignan?" Archer grimaced disgustedly.

Isabella gasped in horror, her eyes narrowing as she glanced at Guy. "Really? The sheriff killed de Lusignan? The King of Cyprus? "

"Oh, my God, yes!" A limpid glance of Archer's pale blue eyes met Isabella's. "Actually, Vaisey killed him in the dirty tavern, among many people. De Lusignan was disguised as he came on the meeting, so it was the murder of the disguised King."

"You and Vaisey are murderers, Guy!" Isabella returned hotly. "You are men and you think that you can kill and humiliate! If only I had been born a man, I would have been able to do what I want and be responsible for my own life! And then I wouldn't have been sold by my own brother to the man who raped me on my wedding night and beaten by him throughout so many years!"

Guy cursed, his eyes sparkled warningly. "Stop, Isabella. Better stop," he said, surprisingly gently.

"Did you really sell her to her husband?" Archer asked icily, an angry flush staining his young cheeks.

A fiery expression in his eyes, Guy nodded; he was angry and dismayed that Archer had overheard them. "I gave her a chance to have a better life. She failed to use it."

"Oh, I am sure you wanted all the best for me," Isabella replied dryly, smiling sarcastically.

Archer frowned. The conflicting emotions raged through him. Guy wished to kill Robin Hood and hated him, but he also was no better than the sheriff, Archer decided. He hated Guy for what he did to Isabella, their sister. The revelation about the dark secret, which the Gisborne siblings had kept beside themselves and which alienated them, shocked Archer.

Appalled with Guy's action and unaccountably drawn to Isabella, Archer struggled with himself not to draw his sword and punish Guy right now, for Isabella's pain. "I would love to cross the swords with you now, but I won't do that. Not before Lady Isabella."

Archer bowed majestically, his outward bearing as cold and unbending as usual. Archer's orbs locked with Guy's, and the man in the black leather shuddered; he suddenly thought that he was looking into Robin Hood's eyes, the eyes of the same rare color – the pale blue eyes, so light, nearly translucent.

"Isabella, but I truly wanted to give you a better life," Guy said truthfully.

Isabella sent him a deeply scornful glance. "I don't believe you. You never wrote to me to ask how I felt. You left even before you met me after my wedding night. You didn't see that on the morning after my wedding night I was weeping; my eyes were swollen and red-trimmed, and there were many bruises on my face. You proved yourself totally without honor and walked away from the situation."

Guy sighed, a scowl marring his features. "Believe me or not, I don't care."

Guy felt his heart twist. She said the truth because he noticed that something was wrong, but he was afraid to ask. He needed Squire Thornton's money so much at that time because he had to pay his for his knighthood training; the sheriff paid him a small fee for the services as his squire, which was not enough to live on that. But it was true that he had never wanted to hurt his sister deliberately.

Guy went to the door of the cabin and paused, giving Isabella one last ambiguous look. He kicked open the door and with his shoulder slammed it shut behind him. He hardly reached his cabin before someone's brisk step was heard in the corridor, and then a shadow appeared on the wall. Guy recognized Archer's slender figure.

Guy looked down at the younger man, who also was shorter, his brow furrowing. "What do you want?"

"What are you going to do with Lady Isabella?" Archer questioned directly, his gaze betraying his naked concern about her, without any mischief and arrogance.

"What do you need from my sister?"

Archer ignored his question. "Are you going to let Vaisey kill her?"

"She will not die," Guy promised, nearly pleasantly.

"And who will save her?"

Guy averted his eyes. "I just said that she would not die."

"Ah, you are a hero and shall save her," Archer taunted sarcastically, but also in bitter disappointment.

Guy, pushing forward and pausing beside him, looked at him sharply. In the anxiety of the moment his hard, light eyes were less carefully veiled than usual. "Why is that business of yours? You fancy her?"

"It is not my business, but yours, as her brother. She doesn't deserve to be treated so poorly."

"Leave my sister! She is a married lady! Don't you dare try to seduce her!"

With a shrug of his shoulders, Guy turned away and strode swiftly in the direction of his cabin, unaware of Archer still staring at him with his eyes filled with conflicting emotions, his heart in his throat.

Archer returned to Isabella and found her cuddled on the mattress, silently weeping and cursing Guy. Archer sat down on the floor, near Isabella, and let her cry for a little without speaking, only petting her head like a child and stroking her tumbled hair with a gentle hand.

As her sobs subsided, Archer put his hand under her chin and tilted up her tear-stained face. "He will not hurt you more. I will not let him hurt you."

"Thank you," Isabella murmured, salty tears oozing in her eyes.

Isabella gave Archer a little sad smile, not wishing to be alone and listening to the immensity of nature all around. Archer smiled back at her, thinking that he would do everything to protect her from Vaisey and even Guy, if it was necessary. All those thoughts flashed through Archer's mind in that one moment while his eyes looked into hers, but the only thing Archer didn't know was that she didn't need to be saved from Guy, but Guy needed to be saved from her.

§§§

Guy of Gisborne descended to the small cabin, his own cabin he shared with Marian. Carefully, he lit one candle in the far corner of the cabin, which left the other parts in shadow. He swung around and his eyes fixed on the female figure on the bed.

Marian lay on the bed, her face down, quiet and motionless, as though she hadn't heard that Guy came. Guy walked back to the bed. He sat on the edge and reached for her to unshackle her. At the clang of metallic chains, she raised her head and stared at him, astonished that he showed her such respect. She contemplated Guy, her eyes challenging him and accusing him of all his sins and wrongdoings he had committed in his life on the path to power.

Guy noticed that she was pale as a ghost as blood drained from her face. She had lost much weight since they had left England; he thought that she had to put on an ounce of weight. For an instant, she reminded him of a frail, bird-like creature because of her paleness and slimness. The journey had a hard toll on her, as well as her emotional unrest.

Using her newly acquired freedom, Marian sat propped up on her pillows, and regarded Guy with a cynical smile. The silence from her was long and ominous, and he almost wished he had stayed on the deck. With undiminished enthusiasm, she continued looking at Guy for several minutes, smiling with the same smile. Then she turned away and settled on the bed, closing her eyes.

"Marian, you stay calm. This is a strong storm," Guy said gently, breaking a silence.

Marian looked up at him dumbly, not really seeing him at all. "Why did we sail in storm?"

"The sheriff wants to be in Acre as soon as possible," Guy answered after a short pause. "We are sailing very quickly. Yesterday, we left the shores of Cyprus, and soon we will see the shores of Acre."

She frowned at him. "To kill the king?"

"Yes."

"Will you do that?"

Guy looked at Marian for a long, long time, and she met his gaze unflinchingly. "I will kill the king."

"You are a fool, Guy!" Marian declared fiercely. "We have talked many times that Vaisey will give you no power. And you… will regret if you kill the king. I don't believe that you want to kill him."

"If King Richard returns to England, we – you and I – will have nothing – no lands, no status, no power, and no future. Or perhaps you would have the Knighton Hall, but I will be dead."

"I don't need power! I don't need lands!"

"Marian, we deserve to have a comfortable life. And I wouldn't be deprived of what is justly mine!"

"Happiness is not about power and wealth," she pointed out.

"I know," he said softly. "But even if I don't want to kill him, I must. Otherwise Vaisey will kill you and Isabella."

"You don't have to kill the king. There is another way out."

The storm persisted, the wind raged. The boat was dancing like a cork in the boiling waters. It seemed to Marian that it was disintegrating seemed to her that the world was disintegrating around her.

"Marian, why did you have to put me in this position? Why did you try to kill the sheriff? Did you even once understand what I was feeling... or thinking?"

Marian grimaced in disgust. "The sheriff is mad. I had to prevent him from killing the King."

Guy shook his head in disagreement. "No, he is single-minded. He doesn't allow distractions."

"To divert him from his course of killing innocent people and the King," she finished for him. She raised her chin, her sapphire eyes blazing into his, conveying in that one look all her despair she felt at that moment. "Distractions? Like a little humanity?"

Guy sighed heavily, turning away from her. "Humanity is a weakness."

Marian grabbed his arm, making him to face her. "You don't believe that, Guy. You don't."

"I… I…" He stumbled with words.

"Guy, kill the sheriff when we arrive in Acre."

Guy raised his head, their eyes met. "There is nothing I can do."

"No, you can." Her voice resonated like the sound of a bell. "Turn against Vaisey."

"And even if I agree, how can I do it?" he asked, baffled.

"We need someone in King Richard's entourage who can put a word for you."

"Hood! Hood!" Guy shouted frenziedly, his face contorted in fury. "Again this brat! This thief! Don't tell me that I must beg Hood for help on my knees! I will never ever do that."

Marian bit her lips and foamed with anger. It was going to be more difficult that she had planned. "Alright, alright. Do you know someone else close to King Richard?"

"We don't need it."

"Sir Roger de Tosny," she said curtly as she remembered the name of the man whom Guy had served as a squire in Normandy before Vaisey trapped him in the debt prison and hired him. "You can contact Sir Roger. You can find him in the king's camp in Acre and warn him about the regicide."

Guy shook his head in disagreement. "I cannot."

"You said that Roger de Tosny is in Richard's good graces. He will help us. He will–"

"No, stop it!"

Marian stared at Guy, her eyes pleading him. "Guy, you once told me that you were relieved that you hadn't killed the king when you had been standing over his sleeping form."

"I was… oddly relieved. I don't know why I felt so."

"You don't want to kill the King, Guy!"

Guy looked at Marian, attentively and intensively. The thought of Robin Hood came into his mind quite naturally. What scared Guy most of all was his own emotional conflict, the battle of the good and the bad in his heart. It may have been the wild storm and their proximity to Acre, which had torn away the soft veil of mist that covered Hood's image in his memory, but Guy somehow felt that he didn't want to kill Robin Hood and King Richard, for unexplainable reasons. The image of Robin Hood as the small child flickered in his mind, and his hatred was not as strong as before.

The old priest in church located in the suburbs of Nottingham had told Guy strange things, and since then Guy couldn't forget them. The priest had said that if he had killed King Richard and Robin Hood, he would have lost all chances for redemption. He didn't want to believe that Roger of Gisborne had committed something bad and had somehow wronged Malcolm of Locksley and Robin. The priest's words were the product of the old man's imagination, or perhaps he just wanted to spite Guy. It was so much easier to forget what the priest had told him, but for whatever reason those words haunted him since the day he had visited that old church.

"Do you want to kill King Richard?" Marian repeated her question, raising her voice slightly.

"I don't want to kill the King," Guy confessed helplessly. "But I have to."

Marian heard the sincerity in Guy's words, but sadly she assumed that Guy would probably not turn against the sheriff, whom he was so blindly and obsessively loyal to. But she had to try again.

She cast a condemning glance at him. "Just kill the sheriff and that's all."

"Hush! Hush!" Guy spoke hastily, casting an anxious glance around him. "Vaisey hears everything and can do everything to us. There is also Prince John's personal assassin."

She scoffed, neglecting his warning. "I don't care. I cannot let you kill the king and Robin."

As Marian spoke about Robin, Guy looked at her with interest. While his thoughts were occupied on the means of protecting Marian and Isabella from the sheriff and of having power beyond measure, he also thought of the news about Robin's marriage, which Guy de Lusignan had shared with them. He wanted to see Marian's reaction to the news, and he fully expected it to be dramatic.

"I know something interesting about Robin Hood," Guy announced, his eyes focused on Marian's face.

Marian felt her heart skip a beat. "What news?"

Their eyes met, and Guy was suddenly conscious of a delicious weakness mingled with a queer exhilaration which co-existed in her heart at the thought of Robin. He knew that she found herself thinking of Robin more often as they were approaching the shores of the Holy Land.

"Hood married the king's cousin in Acre more than two months ago," Guy said with a twisted smile.

She swallowed hard. Her eyes widened. "What?"

"Hood married the king's cousin," he repeated.

She shook her head, in disbelief. "No, it is impossible."

"This is true. Prince John's spy on Cyprus told us."

She questioned whether he was telling her the truth, but she knew he was. "Well, I don't know what to say," she returned lifelessly, going cold with shock, too stunned for tears.

"If it makes your life easier, we were told that it was a purely political marriage," Guy added, not knowing why he was talking about Hood's marriage in that context, trying to smooth Marian's pain and shock. "Hood has done that out of loyalty to King Richard. I think he was ordered to marry."

Marian sank heavily back on the pillows and put her hand to her mouth, choking back tears. Her face was pale; tears stood in her eyes. "It is my entire fault! Only my fault!" she gasped repeatedly.

Guy met her eyes and then looked away from her obstinately. "It is not your fault, Marian. He married for political reasons, to ensure that certain Poitevin lords would be loyal to King Richard."

She looked down at hands, feeling disgust for herself. "You don't understand, Guy," she whispered, meaning that her rejection had pushed Robin into an unhappy loveless marriage for political reasons.

Through a mist of tears she was no longer able to restrain, Marian saw Guy's painful expression. A spasm of rage shook her at the thought of Vaisey and Guy still planning to assassinate the king. But there was also pain that Robin had married another woman, not her, his Marian. But what could she expect after her rejection of Robin's love for her? She made her choices and she had no right to blame Robin, for he was a free man, loyal to the King of England and his country.

"What should I understand?" he inquired, at loss.

"Nothing."

"Do you love Robin Hood?" He barely managed to ask the question that bothered him for so long.

She shut her eyes. "It doesn't matter."

Marian was extremely confused. She was greatly attracted to Guy, and she often thought that she loved him, not Robin. But then Robin's image came to her mind, over and over again, and she still felt the fierce desire to see him and protect him from the sheriff. Her affection for Robin didn't fade away as soon as her former betrothed was no longer with her. Guy drew her as a magnet would draw iron, but there was also Robin. She still was trapped in the love triangle between such different men.

"Then your reaction is not understandable," Guy said softly, watching as she was struggling with tears.

"I miss him," Marian confessed, unable to meet his gaze.

Marian felt that she could no longer restrain her tears. Huge sobs escaped her, and her enormous blue eyes glittered as the tears flowed freely. She cried so hard that Guy's heart clenched in pain, and he scooped her into his arms, holding her gently, rocking her to and fro as she wept. She clung to him, burying her face in his chest until gradually her sobs subsided. He stroked her hair and murmured to her while her diminishing shudders shook them both. Finally, he released her and tenderly brushed away her tears that ran down her pale cheeks.

When he attempted to leave, she grasped his hand. "Don't leave me," she pleaded with upturned eyes.

"I will stay, my love," Guy replied, seating himself on the edge of the bed.

Marian was too tired from anxiety to be alone. She heard his words, vaguely, and she wondered if he had really called her his love or if she was dreaming. She had never felt so lonely before.

"You will just sit and stare at me?" she said.

He closed his eyes and clenched his fists. "And what do you want?"

"I cannot be alone. Not tonight," she whispered.

Guy flung her away from him so forcefully that she fell on the bed. She looked up at him, in shock, tears shimmering in her eyes, her face as white as death with sudden apprehension. "You were alone since we left Nottingham. Today, you don't want to be alone after I told you about Hood's marriage."

"You would strike me now as you did when you learnt that I was the Nightwatchman?"

He sat beside her and pulled her into his arms. "No," he muttered, his tone agonized as he started covering her face with kisses.

They kissed for an endless time, forgetting about the raging storm outside or the extreme oddity of their sudden, overpowering attraction to each other.

Guy embraced her appreciatively. Her hair hung in strands, like a curtain of dark knight enveloping her body, as if caressing it. Marian felt his strong arms around her as she lay back on the bed. They stripped one another from their clothes, quickly and violently, and soon a heap of their clothes lay on the floor. She stood completely naked, except for very few garments, and his hands traveled to her waist, and he stepped back, letting his eyes linger at her body.

Marian responded to his hot kisses, her tongue snaking into his mouth, entwining with his, searching and exploring. There were no questions to hold her back, not after she had learnt that Robin had married. There was only her loneliness and helplessness, which pushed her to cling to Guy, thinking that his arms could give her shelter, whatever was happening in the world beyond them could wait.

Guy understood that it was probably not pure, absolute love which pushed Marian to his arms tonight. She never showed that she wanted him after he had allowed the sheriff to treat her and Isabella like miserable prisoners and after he had forced her to travel to the Holy Land. On the contrary, she always cast disappointed glances at him, accusing him of callousness and cruelty, and his heart nearly collapsed in his chest in pain from her rejection. But today she needed him for comfort as she learnt about Hood's matrimony.

He didn't care why she wanted him. He suffered from the strongest emotional conflict, demons were tearing his heart apart, and he wanted her to take away a part of his pain. For a moment, hope of a worthier future for him and Marian was beginning to take shape in his mind, but, oddly, Guy found his love for her and his need to win her and make her his not as sharp as he had felt before. But he wanted to possess her at that instance and that she wanted him.

He ran his hands through her hair, murmuring barely understandable endearments in French, his mother's language, into her ear. He broke the kiss and looked at her. "I wonder whom you love…"

"It doesn't matter," she said huskily.

"Do you want me, Marian?"

She kissed his collarbone. "I do," she breathed.

Unconsciously seeking fulfillment, they joined together as he entered her, both gasping aloud with the exquisite sensation. Her hands fluttered down his back as she moved restlessly beneath him and held his head against her, sinking her fingers into the wealth of dark silken hair. Waves of heated rapture washed over them, burning them inside, like a wind-fed fire, consuming them in its hungry flames.

Guy held her tightly to his chest while the receding aftershocks left them limp and content in each other's arms. "Marian?" he asked softly.

"Yes?" Marian looked at him as the single torch in the cabin threw a narrow shaft of light on the bed.

"Are you alright?"

"More or less."

She leaned down and her lips traced the path down his throat and to his bare chest. She kissed the line of the old scar on his shoulder and then traced it with her finger. "What did you get this scar?"

"Vaisey," he spat.

She raised her head to look at him, her brows arching. "When did he do that to you?"

His face was flushed, his eyes closed, his dark lashes lay fanned on his cheeks. "Remember what I told you about my life in Normandy. Vaisey blackmailed me and forced me to kill King Richard's knight in the forest, for the first time in my life. Then Vaisey asked me to behead his dead body." He trailed off.

She sighed heavily. "This monster threatened to kill you if you didn't do that."

"Yes." Guy sighed. "So much pain," he murmured, shutting his eyes. "There was so much hurt and a great deal of loneliness, so many betrayals and so many hardships. I wish I could forget everything."

"You have to forget," she whispered. "But you should not kill to forget."

Guy shuddered, his body tensed. "I cannot. And I have to kill."

"Not the king and not Robin."

"You do love him," he asserted, then swallowed heavily.

Marian pulled away from him. "No, this is different," she said irritably. "How you enjoy hurting people! Oh, I hate you for that!"

"I should hate you, too," Guy whispered mostly to himself. "For sleeping with Hood before me, for often thinking of him when you are with me."

Marian turned her head away, regretfully and shamefully. "I thought you didn't know."

"I am not a fool," he reflected softly. "I should hate you, but I cannot."

Her arms encircled his neck, and she looked into his eyes. "Then don't kill the king and Robin. If you cannot do that for yourself to be free from your demons, then don't commit regicide for me."

Guy pulled away and abruptly sat up on the bed. "We have already talked about that."

Marian stared at him, her eyes desperate. "I thought you are a decent man! Don't do this!"

His arms wrapped her about her waist. "This is because of Hood."

"I don't want you to commit an act of treason."

"I cannot stop. Not now. It is too late. There is no way back. Vaisey blackmails me, and I cannot let him kill you and Isabella," Guy contradicted. "And Hood must pay for what he did to me in childhood."

Marian jerked away violently, pushing frantically against his chest. "Oh, don't tell me that you hate Robin!" she exclaimed breathlessly. "You cannot kill King Richard and Robin! I will do something! I won't let you kill them!"

Gripped by the strangest sensation of the powerful passion and monstrous pain he had ever known in his life, Guy regarded her distressed features. There was an expression of inhumane agony in the depths of his steel blue eyes that made Marian's heart clench painfully. He growled something low in his throat, and he climbed out of the bed. He stared down at her, his eyes narrowing at her, and he cursed in French. He picked up his leather trousers from the floor and hastily put them on; then he grabbed his jacket and threw it over his shoulders.

Guy shook his dark head. "Marian, you don't know what you want and whom you want," he got out between gritted teeth, his eyes glittering dangerously. "You need me and Hood, so you unconsciously punish me for your own secret desires and confusion. You are an extraordinary woman, beautiful, strong and fearsome, but also a child in a woman's body. Grow up."

Marian took a sharp breathe, but neither waiting for nor expecting an answer, Guy looked away from her. She opened her mouth to speak, angry words boiling up in her throat, but she didn't do that. She couldn't lie to him about the fact that she didn't miss Robin. He finished dressing and headed to the door. He left the cabin, slamming the door behind him.

"Guy! Guy! Guy!" Marian shouted, tears springing to her eyes at the sight of his tall, broad-shouldered form disappearing behind the door.

She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting against the tears. The ache in her heart was more powerful than any pain she had ever felt before in her life. She loved Robin of Locksley! Love for Robin had always been a part of her, but she rejected him because he loved the king and his country so much. And she also loved Guy of Gisborne! These facts were irrefutable, and the revelation explained so many things she did, especially the ease with which she had allowed herself to be seduced by both men, by the light charm of Robin and the dark charm of Guy.

The knowledge was that she had probably loved both Robin and Guy was bitter and fraught with anguish. It was frightening to think that she had taken one look at Guy's chiseled features, stared only once into those steel blue eyes, and wished to be with Guy. But it was even more frightening that she had taken just one look into the eyes of pale blue color, even if she imagined those eyes, and was instantly drawn to other man – Robin, instantly aware of her desire to have him by her side.

Woefully, Marian admitted to herself that she found it far easier to think about the salvation of the king and England at that very instant than to dwell on her personal, complicated situation. She didn't find the solution how to save the king during the endless days of the journey, hoping that Guy would change his mind and go against the sheriff, but it didn't happen, which meant that she would have to do everything to save the king herself, even if she had to sacrifice her own life to let King Richard live. She just hoped that it was not too late and that she wouldn't fail.

Meanwhile, Guy stood near the door of the cabin; he heard her sobs. But now he was thinking more of the upcoming new regicide attempt than about his troubles with Marian. Guy didn't want to kill King Richard, but he had to do that because otherwise Marian and Isabella would die at Vaisey's hand. He was amused with his own sensations and doubts, despite all his apprehension, to realize that he was, beyond belief, scared. His gut feeling was that the sheriff would fail to kill the king once again, but he felt that someone would die; he feared the outcome of their trip to Acre.

He stood erect, holding his head high, and turned slowly in a complete circle, gazing at the door to Marian's cabin, and he heard her sobs. He cannot go to her. He had to spend some time alone. He had to think. The haunting fear of death and doom gripped his heart; dread slashed through his core. He strode forward and opened another door, disappearing in the darkness of another small cabin.

§§§

As daylight faded into dusk and the sinking sun colored the blue sky into a pale tint of orange above the sparkling waters of the sea, the sheriff's ship came ashore in the harbor of Acre after overcoming the turbulence of the violent storm. It was a miracle that they managed to come alive out of the savage storm, and Vaisey laughed, saying that it was a good omen for their mission and that they would finally kill the King of England. The journey to Acre was over.

They disembarked the ship, and the sheriff ordered Gisborne, Archer, and five of his French mercenaries to take the captives ashore; of course, the ladies were shackled and gagged, as usual. Neither Marian, nor Isabella tried to resist, everyone almost dead after the journey from Cyprus to Acre. Marian didn't talk to Guy, deliberately ignoring him and still thinking how to stop Guy; Isabella was silent, too, watching Guy and Marian from the corner of her eye.

They rode on the camels from the harbor to the suburbs of Acre, to the house owned by the sheriff's Muslim allies. The house with plain facade covered in blue, green, and white-glazed Saracen tiles in patterns was large and luxurious, with a huge garden and fountains nested inside the inner courtyard. They passed through the courtyard to the entrance of the house. The garden was heavy with the scent of spices, and the only sounds were the splashing of fountains and distant sweetness of Arabic music. The gray dusk heightened the romantic environment of the surroundings.

Looking around in awe, Marian and Isabella were carried to one of the rooms on the first floor and put on the bed; each of them was chained to the wall by an ankle. Guy and Archer uttered no word and closed the door, trailing behind the sheriff and heading to the living room. The sheriff quickly had a dinner, enjoying fresh bacon, smoked lamb, and white bread. Then the sheriff said that he had some deals in Acre and was gone, ordering Gisborne and Archer to wait for him in the house.

Vaisey returned in two hours, obviously in good mood. Humming something under his breath, he sat down on the yellow sofa and propped himself onto the silk pillows, his expression smug and happy. "Oh, this is so sweet to be in Acre. I told you that we would make it to Acre in four days and we did that," he said in singsong tones. "It is very hot here, but I like this place very much."

"The heat is unbearable," Archer agreed.

The sheriff chuckled, his eyes darting between Guy and Archer. "The heat is not important, boys. We are so close to power! We will kill the king and go home. Soon Prince John will become King of England."

"My lord, my wife and sister…" Guy began but trailed off.

The sheriff laughed halfheartedly. "Gizzy, speak and quickly if you want and while I permit that."

In the dim light, Guy held Vaisey's gaze, his eyes cold and yet at the same time flaming with the very desire to rebel against the sheriff, but he couldn't. "I want them safe."

"Gisborne, take a deep breath and enjoy the last moments before our triumph. Don't worry! Your lepers will be fine. They needed to be taught a lesson of obedience and sweetness, and the last months served this purpose well," the sheriff assured his henchman. "Be loyal to me, Gizzy, and you will win."

"I am loyal to you, my lord," Guy said.

"Will you release them?" Archer cast a suspicious glance at the sheriff.

The sheriff smirked at Archer. "Archy, I see that you truly fancy Lady Isabella. Do you love her more than Gizzy loves his leper wife? Oh, oh, oh! This is dangerous, Archy! Lepers are making men weak and soft, which happened to my dear Gizzy. Be careful with lepers."

"Spare me your lectures about lepers, my lord," Archer growled. "You should better learn more about women before you give us recommendations how to deal with any lady."

Vaisey smiled nastily, but inside he was seething with anger; he knew what to do with Archer. "Archy, you are an ill-mannered man. Didn't your parents teach you how to treat elder people?"

"I don't have parents. I have been an orphan since my birth," Archer barked, remembering Malcolm of Locksley and wondering whether Robin had any idea about his father's survival in the fire.

Vaisey outstretched his arms in a gesture of grief. "How sad! Poor boy! Alone in the world!"

Someone knocked at the door, and Gisborne unsheathed his sword. The sheriff outstretched his ringed hand ahead, pointing at Gisborne to open the door.

Opening the door into the living room, the Saracen came inside, his gaze wandering across the room, where they sought Sheriff Vaisey or the man in black leather, as he referred to Guy since they had met in Acre more than two years ago and together organized the raid on the king's camp.

As Guy saw him, he sheathed his sword and the man smiled at him. The Saracen showed the sheriff his ring with the sheriff's insigne, and Vaisey laughed.

"Good evening," Nasir said in English.

"Good evening. Are you Nasir?" Vaisey asked.

Nasir nodded. "Yes, I am. And you are Sheriff Vaisey?"

The sheriff showed his ring. "Yes, I am."

Nasir shifted his gaze from Gisborne to Archer. "I know Sir Guy of Gisborne, but I don't know this man and several other men who ransacked me outside the house."

The sheriff chuckled. "These men are with us." He smiled. "Nasir, my dear boy. Gisborne told me wonderful things about you!" He rose to his feet and walked to the Saracen. He extended his arm, inviting the man to go and seat on the sofa.

There was one more knock at the door, and Gisborne opened it, letting another Saracen, taller and older than Nasir, to come inside the room. Karim was also one of the sheriff's accomplices in Acre.

"I am Karim, Nasir's right-hand man," Karim introduced himself.

"Very good. Oh, very good." The sheriff circled behind Nasir, looking at Karim. "I am pleased to meet all my allies and friends in these distant and hostile lands."

"What is our plan?" Nasir questioned.

"It depends on the circumstances. Do you have news?" Vaisey said briskly.

"King Richard has already signed the peace treaty with Saladin," Nasir informed.

Guy and Archer looked at the sheriff, waiting what he would say. They understood the seriousness of the situation, for if the peace with Saladin had been made, they failed at least one part of their plan as Prince John wished to kill his brother before the achievement of peace with Saladin.

Vaisey let out a groan of frustration. "When?"

"Five days ago," Nasir replied. "Are you still planning to kill King Richard?"

The sheriff gave a curt nod. "Of course, we will kill the king."

"Now we will not be able to cast the blame on Saladin's generals," Nasir pointed out.

Vaisey looked at Nasir, his gaze sly. "It doesn't matter."

"What do you mean?" Nasir looked confused.

"Be patient, my boy, be patient. Patience is goodness, which pays off in the end," the sheriff said cheerfully, his mind plotting a new twist in his regicide plan. "When is the king leaving Acre?"

"Our spy in the king's camp informed us today that Melek-Ric and his entourage will depart from Acre in two days," Karim responded.

"What are you going to do, my lord? They will be gone soon and we can do nothing with that." Guy wasn't frustrated with the news about peace but rather alarmed with the sheriff's behavior.

"Gizzy, I once told you that I always have a plan," Vaisey said, scowling at his henchman. "The peace may always be ruined. Or the conditions of the peace treaty may be changed."

Nasir smiled wryly. "I see where you are going."

"You, Nasir, are going to visit King Richard." The sheriff came to Nasir and handed to him at object wrapped in cloth. "You are Saladin's new messenger."

Nasir unwrapped the object which was Saladin's royal seal. "Where did you get this?"

"This belonged to Saladin's old messenger," Vaisey said.

Archer and Guy stared at the sheriff incredulously. They began to understand where the sheriff had gone during the several hours between their arrival to the house and the visit of Karim and Nasir.

"My people, my experienced French mercenaries, found him, tied him up, and then I took the seal," Vaisey explained. "Of course, I didn't need witnesses and the messenger is currently… a little dead."

"You are a dangerous man, Sheriff Vaisey," Nasir said, smiling widely. "But there is also a password."

Vaisey laughed. "Oh, yes, it wasn't very difficult to get it. The poor messenger didn't have a chance even to have a long and sweet chat with me, though I didn't need him to talk much. I only needed the password." He looked at Karim. "It was pulling teeth that broke the messenger, and he spoke eagerly."

Karim and Nasir laughed. Guy and Archer remained somber.

"Should I kill the king when I get in his camp?" Karim asked.

Vaisey shook his head in denial. "No, no, no. You won't get to within a thousand yards of the king's tent, even if the peace treaty is signed. I want you to lure him out."

Nasir looked amazed. "How? What will I tell the king?"

"You will tell the king's guards that you are Saladin's messenger; you will show them your seal. You will get inside the camp and inform them that you have an urgent message from Saladin about the changes in the peace treaty," the sheriff said monotonously. "As soon as the king hears that, he will agree to meet with you. When you should tell him that Saladin wants to re-consider some terms of the treaty and that they need to meet personally, face-to-face, to discuss the issue."

"You think Melek-Ric will agree?" Karim doubted the plan.

Vaisey smiled craftily. "The king will agree if he thinks that Saladin may revoke the peace treaty."

"Ah," Guy and Archer said together.

"Great!" Nasir gave the sheriff an appreciating smile. "You are truly a resourceful man, Lord Vaisey."

Vaisey clapped his hands in the air. "I am. I am."

Nasir frowned. "It is a pity that we cannot massacre the barbaric King like a wild dog... like he massacred the prisoners in Acre. I regret that he wasn't killed in the massacre in the Crusaders' camp." He giggled. "Otherwise he would have been known as _the massacred Melek-Ric_."

"That raid was doomed to failure from the beginning," Vaisey asserted. "For many reasons."

"Unfortunately, it is true," Nasir agreed. "Now they are on a very high alert. We cannot even walk freely in the direction of the Crusaders' camp. Everything is patrolled by the king's guards."

"And you forgot two complexities," Karim interjected.

"What?" Vaisey said irritably.

"Robin of Locksley, the Earl of Huntingdon, and Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester," Karim said.

"Oh, these men… They are a great problem. They won't let the king meet with us alone," Nasir agreed.

Sheriff Vaisey threw his head back and laughed uproariously. "I have been thinking about an effective trap for Robin of Locksley for many months," he said seriously. He extracted the rolled parchment from the inner pocket, smiling confidently. "We are going to add a little something extra to Saladin's message to the king. We are going to get King Richard... to kill Robin Hood." Then he became serious. "We will need to ask James what to do with Robert de Beaumont."

Everyone stared at Vaisey in bewilderment mingled with shock, at a loss for words.

"King Richard will never kill Huntingdon. He loves him very much," Nasir snapped, shaking his head.

"Believe me that the king will be very angry, overwhelmed with maddening rage, as soon as he reads these two letters," Vaisey contradicted as he came to Nasir and handed the parchment to him. "Robin Hood's hours are numbered. He won't be a problem for us anymore."

Nasir unrolled the parchment and quickly looked through the text. Then he laughed, leaning against the wall. "I have no doubt that Melek-Ric will be enraged if he sees these parchments."

Vaisey feigned sadness on his face. "How terrible! How evil! The brave and honest Captain Locksley has been a wretched traitor to his king for so long, masking under the cover of goodness and loyalty." His expression turned horrified. "Poor King Richard! He has cherished a viper in his bosom for so long."

Archer tensed. "What are you planning?" He wanted to kill Robin in Acre, not the King of England, intending to say later that he had no chance to kill Richard but killed Robin Hood. Now, if the sheriff planned to take care of Robin in another way, he didn't know what to do.

"We are going to tell King Richard that his beloved Robin has been the Black Knight for two and a half years, since his return to Nottingham. The king will have the written proof of Hood's guilt, and nothing will pacify his Angevin temper then," Vaisey explained. "If Roger de Lacy comes here – I believe he will appear here soon – he will also be considered a traitor."

"What have you done, my lord?" Guy looked curious.

"I hired a talented scribe in Nottingham, and he produced some pretty useful fake letters written as if in Hood's handwriting and stamped as if with the real seal of the Huntingdon family," Vaisey said with a laugh. "I paid quite a large fortune for this pleasure, but it was worth doing that." He looked at Guy, grinning widely. "You see, Gisborne, I have taken care of everything in advance. As soon as Robin of Locksley and Roger de Lacy become traitors and are dead, you may come back to Locksley. I did that for you, my Gizzy, to give you back what you lost for the second time."

"Thank you, my lord," Guy said numbly, thinking that either the sheriff or he had gone mad. His lips trembled as he tried to return a grateful smile, but he failed.

Guy didn't feel thrilled at the thought of getting Locksley back by letting King Richard kill Robin Hood as a traitor. He had never imagined that the sheriff could have gone so far to get what he wanted. He feared to imagine what Vaisey would do to him, to Marian and Isabella, if he betrayed his master. _The sheriff was a madman_ whose craftiness, wickedness, and cruelty had no limits. That horrible thought entered Guy's mind, and he struggled to hide his shock caused by the sickening realization.

"Prince John likes Roger de Lacy," Archer pointed out.

Vaisey inclined his head. "As Gisborne's boy, Allan, disappeared, it became clear that he would meet Roger de Lacy and tell him about our plans. And what will de Lacy do? Of course, he will come to Acre to save his beloved King whom he served dutifully and with devotion for seven years."

Karim cursed under his breath, his face twisting into burning hatred. "Roger de Lacy, captain of the third guard, slaughtered so many Saracens that I will scream and jump at the news of his death. I will never forget how this green-eyed young boy earned the reputation of the hellish holy warrior: Lord Walter Sheridan and Roger de Lacy led the massacre of Acre together, and they were absolutely pitiless to our countrymen." He paused for an instant. "I hate Sheridan and de Lacy with all my heart!"

"What about the Earl of Huntingdon? Did he kill unarmed prisoners?" Archer inquired.

A dangerous spark appeared in Karim's eyes. "Robin of Locksley, the captain of the king's private guard, is famous for his humanity in the Holy Land. But he is usually not very human on the battlefield, for he possesses outstanding fighting skills and killed many Saracens."

"Killing on the battlefield and killing defenseless men are different things," Archer gave an argument. "Did Robin of Locksley kill unarmed prisoners?" He wished to hear the truths about the half-brother.

The sheriff laughed, looking at Archer attentively, but said nothing. Guy eyed Archer with interest.

"The Earl of Huntingdon has a very chivalrous reputation; the Earl of Leicester, the king's beloved favorite and Huntingdon's close friend, is also known for his chivalry," Nasir answered scornfully. "Huntingdon didn't participate in the massacre of Acre, but he deserves to die because he ruined many of our assassination attempts on King's life and because he killed very many of our countrymen."

Karim smirked. "Good point, Nasir."

Archer glanced away. "I see." He greatly hesitated to proceed with the murder of Robin.

"We will win. Nothing can stop us now," the sheriff said confidently, his face splashing into a wry grin. "The king will be dead. Robin Hood will be dead. Prince John will become King of England. We will get power beyond measure." His gaze drifted to Guy. "You, Gisborne, will finally settle scores with Hood. Isn't it charming that Robin will be killed by his precious King?"

"It is… very good," Guy muttered, close to stammering with nervousness, his mouth smiling even as the words came through clenched teeth.

Vaisey approached Guy and pulled him into his arms, imitating a warm embrace. "Don't let me down, Gisborne. Remember what I told you about your lepers. Don't make me teach you a lesson."

"I haven't forgotten." Guy swallowed hard. Frustration from the communication with the sheriff had become as familiar to him as breathing, but now he felt as though he had been pushed to his limit.

"I have even arranged everything to make Locksley yours again," the sheriff whispered.

"Thank you," Guy managed to say.

Vaisey disentangled from their embrace. "Be loyal to me, and I will reward your loyalty. I have done everything for you. You are nothing without me."

Guy nodded. "I know."

Vaisey looked around the group of men, meeting Nasir's gaze. "Death to the barbaric King!"

"Death to Melek-Ric!" Karim and Nasir cried out.

In half an hour, they had another important visitor – Sir James of Lambton, the former Head of the king's private guard in Robin's absence in Acre and presently a common guard. He was one of the king's favorites and was highly trusted by Richard. He was the only spy in the king's camp who still worked for the Black Knights and whom Robin and his friends failed to uncover during their new secret reconnaissance in disguise.

"Can I come in?" James began as he paused near the door.

Dressed in a white Crusader tunic, James had a wrinkled but expressive face and a clean-cut jaw, slightly grim; his skin was heavily tanned which contrasted sharply with his grizzled hair. There were slyness and darkness in his grey eyes that looked at everyone with haughtiness and arrogance.

Karim and Nasir bowed to James, and James nodded at them. They knew him very well, for they were in close contact with the spy during many years when they unsuccessfully tried to kill King Richard.

Guy also nodded at James, and James nodded back; they had also met each other when Guy had been in Acre last time. James was the man who had helped to organize the Saracen raid when Guy had stabbed Robin and then failed to kill the king because of Robin's interference.

"Sir James," Vaisey said with unhidden familiarity, "It has been so long since I last met you in London."

James stepped inside the room, smiling at the sheriff. "I miss my family and I want to go home, but I had to live in this hellhole for so long." He smiled craftily. "But soon everything will be different."

Vaisey smiled back. "Yes! We will come back to England covered in glory after killing the king!"

James nodded. "Yes, Lord Vaisey. And tomorrow is the most suitable day for regicide attempt."

"Why is that so?" Nasir asked. "The king signed the peace treaty!"

"Let me tell James our plan," the sheriff broke in. "He has to know what I invented to deal with Robin of Locksley, so he cannot thwart our plans again; Roger de Lacy won't be a threat to our plans either." His expression turned serious. "We will have to decide what to get rid of Robert de Beaumont."

The sheriff proceeded to tell James the details of the plot against Robin of Locksley and Roger de Lacy. He was talking with unlimited enthusiasm, feeling immensely proud of himself, that he was the man who had designed the plan of Robin Hood's downfall. Finally, he would kill Robin and the King, he thought. Vaisey remembered de Lusignan's words about the fact that Hood's death wasn't in Prince John's interests now, but he also knew that they had to deal with Robin because Robin would surely do everything to stop regicide again, and that was not what they needed. He was sure that Prince John would forgive him for killing Robin if they assassinated King Richard.

James was surprised to hear such an outrageously guileful plan. He did more than smile – he laughed outright, his laugh bright and ringing. "What a funny idea to have Huntingdon killed by King Richard," he said; and he looked pleased. "I think the proof of Huntingdon's alleged guilt which you have, Lord Vaisey, is more than enough to have the legendary Captain Locksley executed by his precious King."

"Well, well! I agree!" Vaisey said with glee. "We should proceed."

James looked at Guy. "This time, Sir Guy, you won't have to kill Captain Locksley from the back to neutralize the threat! This time the king's captain will be killed by his own liege!" He laughed again.

"Certainly," Guy muttered between set teeth.

As Guy plastered a smile on his face and looked at James of Lambton, he thought that he disliked and despised James, the traitor in the midst of so many Crusaders loyal to the king, since the time he had met him in Acre. Guy committed many crimes in his life, but he loathed all traitors and betrayal as much as Robin did, and this also made him loathe himself for acts of treason he committed and was going to commit again. Whatever one could say about him, but Guy could be very loyal, like he was loyal to the sheriff, though he was loyal to the wrong man and he knew about that.

"What about Sir Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester?" Nasir inquired. "He can ruin our plans, too. When Huntingdon was here and in Huntingdon's absence as well, Captain Beaumont thwarted many regicide attempts; once he even almost died in the raid we organized near Ascalon."

"We don't need to do anything with Robert de Beaumont," James replied cheerfully. "He won't be a threat, and this is one of the reasons why we must proceed with our mission tomorrow."

Archer tensed. "Why is that so?"

"It is very interesting, James. Speak please," Vaisey almost purred.

"King Richard and his entourage are intending to sail from Acre the day after tomorrow," James continued as he ran his eyes over the group of conspirators. "All Crusaders are currently celebrating the achievement of peace in the Holy Land. There is a great farewell party today in one of the expensive brothels in the southern part of Acre. Almost everyone gathered there, including Robert de Beaumont, Carter of Stretton, Roger de Tosny, Aubrey de Vere, and two other king's favorites. From the king's most loyal men and chief generals, only Edmund of Cranfield and Robin of Locksley don't participate in today's drunken dissipation." He scoffed. "I also was there, but I retired in the middle of the party to meet with you here."

Karim and Nasir exploded with laughter. Archer smiled somewhat sadly. Guy's face was impenetrable.

"La di da di da! It is so funny," Vaisey sung. "We will be able to kill the king in the very vulnerable moment when his guard is down and when most of his loyal soldiers are sleeping after the night of wanton orgies." He laughed maliciously. "I guess the Earl of Leicester will spend the whole night with Saracen lepers. I remember very well the stories about his passion for debauchery."

James sniggered. "Oh! Yes, my lord, Leicester always enjoys dissipation with exotic whores in local brothels when he has a chance. He always has fun with every girl he finds attractive. He is a well-known philanderer." He paused for an instant. "Huntingdon is also a ladies man, but he is more… selective and moderate than Leicester has ever been."

"So Leicester will be drunk after this night," Nasir said, relieved. "He will be sleeping in the morning like a baby, and he will be unable to do anything. This is great news."

"Leicester already was inebriate when I left. He was surrounded by three whores and enjoyed his time very much," James reported.

Vaisey smiled. "Very good! Let Leicester have some… fun with lepers tonight! I don't mind at all!" He smirked. "It is the only chance when I approve of having distraction with lepers."

Everyone laughed at Vaisey's joke. Archer's laugh was uneasy. Guy forced himself to smile.

"Only Huntingdon is a threat." Archer sighed heavily.

"Yes, Archie, yes!" Vaisey giggled, his face brightening with joy. "And my crafty plan will take care of our little Hooddie!" He smacked his lips. "Nobody will stop us tomorrow!"

"I want the Earl of Huntingdon dead," James hissed.

"Sir James, you hate him so much," Guy asserted. "I noticed it when I met you last time."

"Yes, I hate Captain Locksley!" James sputtered, relapsing into anger. "I have hated him since the day when I met him at the royal court in Poitiers." He sucked in his breath. "King Richard has always favored him beyond measure! The king has spoiled him too much!" He raised his voice. "I loathe Huntingdon! And I cannot wait when King Richard will kill him for his supposed treason!"

Archer was appalled with the amount of hatred in James' words. "You do envy him, Sir James?"

"The king spoiled this brat and gave him everything what others never had," James said, shuddering in rage. "But tomorrow the king will have a great surprise! Huntingdon will be alone with the king who will accuse him of treason! There can be nothing better than to see the defeated Captain Locksley!"

"Your envy is not a trifle," Archer said, more appalled than before. "But tell me whether Huntingdon deserved what the king gave him or not? I have heard that he saved that King's life many times."

James looked abased. "This braggart deserves only death! He–"

Archer cut the traitor off sharply. "I asked you this question out of mere curiosity. I just want to know whom I will kill tomorrow; it is always better to know your victim and enemy." He forced a smile to appear on his face, pretending that he was resolute to kill Robin, which now was quite to the contrary.

A wry smile curved Guy's lips. "Well, it seems our assassin has shown his teeth." He wondered whether Archer played a game or not, but his words sounded so sincere.

"My dearest, gracious Lord," Vaisey cried out in delight. "It is also my tactic! Know your enemy and be prepared in advance!" Yet, he didn't trust Archer even more than before, but he played his game.

"Huntingdon deserves to die at least because Melek-Ric favors him," Nasir asserted.

Like Nasir, Karim hated all Christians and King Richard in particular; he would have killed everyone, even Vaisey, James, Guy, and Archer, if he could. "Melek-Ric will be dead by midday! Captain Locksley will be executed and buried in an unmarked grave as a traitor! This is what Allah dictates us to do!"

James, Nasir, and Karim left in an hour after they had discussed the rest of the sheriff's plan in all details. Vaisey was happy, waiting for the king and Robin to be delivered into the hands of death. Guy was somber, wonderstruck with the depths of the sheriff's wickedness and speculating why he wasn't thrilled with the oncoming deaths of his childhood nemesis and the king, which would grant him much power. Archer was serious and sullen, hiding dark secrets about his past, his spirits low as he was uncertain whether he wanted to participate in the sheriff's murderous plan.

§§§

The overpowering heat of the morning awoke Marian from the darkness of a nightmare. She again found herself caught up once more in the dream which haunted her since they had left England.

Marian dreamed that she stood on the decks of two ships sailing away in the opposite directions, and the sea, splashing in rising angry waves, created a foam-flecked barrier between her and another figure, barely recognizable in the mist. Then that figure jumped into the sea, swimming in her direction and fighting desperately to reach Marian's ship, and she saw that it was a male figure. The man struggled with every ounce of strength and willpower until he was about to sink but was able to grip someone's hand that suddenly appeared above him and pulled him to her ship.

But tonight the sea in Marian's old nightmare was red, not blue or deep blue, and no hand appeared to drag the man out of the water. She saw the man chocking with red water, with blood, and then his head disappeared under the water as he tumbled into the dark abyss of death.

Marian felt her body trembling, and many tiny beads of sweat were on her forehead. Opening her eyes, she tried to gain her bearings, realizing that she was in an unfamiliar place. Her eyes fell on the bars on the window, and she recalled that they were in Acre. She shuddered, her breathing shaky; she reached up for her face and realized that her cheeks were wet. She was so consumed by her nightmare that she silently wept asleep and the images were still playing through her mind.

Marian turned her gaze at Guy's sister. Her head on the silk pillow and her legs coiled, Isabella lay on the other side of the wide bed on white sheets; she looked tired, with dark circles under her steel blue eyes and some harsh lines on her high cheekbones. Unlike Marian, Isabella was incapable of sleeping on that night in spite of their tiredness after the journey in the violent storm.

"Did you have a nightmare?" Isabella inquired.

Marian blinked. "Yes, it was not a good dream."

"You look like a sad medusa!" Isabella teased.

Marian looked down at herself. "What do you mean?"

"Your hair is spreading in snakelike waves across the pillow. And you cried," Isabella explained.

"Ah," Marian breathed. She sat in the bed, shaking back the curled masses of her chocolate hair.

"It is very hot here. I wonder how the Saracens are able to live in this hot climate. I would not be able to withstand the sun for more than several months."

The heat was unbearable and they could hardly breathe with full lungs. The hot rays of the morning sun shone at them through the window, dazzling their eyes. Their heads were spinning, as much from the exhaustion as from the mere thought that they were in the Holy Land, surrounded by death everywhere and possibly forced to face the end of their own lives at the sheriff's hands very soon.

"The weather can also be cool and rainy in the winter and the spring," Marian added nonchalantly.

Isabella stared at her, amazed. "How do you know?"

Marian smiled simply, her mind traveling to Robin. "I just know." The only memories of the Crusade Robin shared with her were about the weather in the Holy Land.

The door flung open, and Archer entered the room. He had two baskets of food in his hands. Greeting the ladies, he walked to the bed and put the baskets there; there were fresh bread and a jug of wine and milk inside. Isabella smiled at him gratefully and suddenly realized how hungry she was and wolfed the food immediately, washing it down with great draughts of wine. In contrast to Guy's sister, Marian turned away, her expression filled with repugnance.

Archer looked baffled. "Lady Marian, aren't you hungry? Some bread and wine cannot please you very much, but we don't have exquisite food here. But if it is not to your liking, I will find something else."

Marian gave him a wan smile. "No, thank you. I have no appetite."

"Well, alright," Archer said with a sigh.

"At least they give us something to eat." Isabella nipped a piece of bread.

Archer looked between Marian and Isabella, his half-brother's wife and his sister, his gaze focusing at Marian. He thought that Guy of Gisborne was a lucky man to be married to such a beautiful and well-mannered woman. He was careful to keep his eyes above the level of Marian's neck and her rosy lips, so as to avoid embarrassment from openly admiring other man's wife.

Marian caught Archer's curious, intensive gaze. She remarked that Prince John's assassin was watching them, and she wondered why Archer seemed so reluctant to leave. Suddenly, the idea struck her: she could have tried to persuade Archer to spare the king's life and warn Richard about regicide.

Archer watched Marian in silence, from time to time turning his gaze at Isabella and also smiling, and then, taking a deep breath, he swung around, intending to go and find the sheriff.

"Master Archer," Marian called him. "Please don't leave."

Archer turned around, startled. "My lady, how can I help you?"

"Don't commit an act of high treason," Marian said, looking him in the eye.

Archer gaped at her words. "I am sorry, my lady, but I cannot grant your request."

"Master Archer, don't kill King Richard. You are an assassin hired by Prince John, and you are here because you were paid by the Prince," Marian said directly. "I may do that you will get much more than Prince John paid you for the murder of the king and Robin of Locksley."

"And how can you do that?" Archer grinned at her sheepishly.

Marian was stunned with Archer's grin, so familiar and charming. "If you warn King Richard about the regicide attempt on his life, the king will pardon you. He is generous with those who serve him well."

Archer looked genuinely puzzled. "Pardon me?"

"Master Archer, I will vouch for you before King Richard," Marian persisted, clinging to the only hope that wasn't lost. "The king will surely pardon you, Master Archer, and he will pay you a vast sum of money if you warn him about the danger and save his life. I promise you that."

Archer measured Marian with a skeptical look. "You are right that I do everything only for profit, and I have a contract to kill the king and Robin Hood. But even if I switch sides now, I doubt that King Richard will treat me favorably; the king is known as a cruel and vengeful man."

"Robin of Locksley, the Earl of Huntingdon, will help us. He will talk to the king and persuade him to pardon you. He is the king's close friend and has a great influence over our King," Marian continued. "I will speak to the king. The king or Robin will pay you more than Prince John did."

An ominous scowl darkened Archer's face. "Do you know Robin of Locksley? Why should I believe you?"

"Robin and I grew up together. We were betrothed many years ago. He will listen to me, he always does," Marian elaborated, her voice desperate. "Robin is very devoted to the king, and if you save King Richard's life, he will be immensely grateful to you. He will help you come out of the mess alive and rich. I don't doubt that Robin himself will give you everything if you save the king."

Archer laughed ruefully, reached into the scrip at his belt, and touched a purse of coins, thinking that the proposal would have been tempting if he hadn't wished to take Robin's lands and estates for himself after his brother's death. Besides, he found it amazing that one of his half-brothers had been once betrothed to Marian and then another half-brother married the same woman.

"Locksley, this arrogant asshole?" Archer snapped disdainfully.

"You don't know him. Don't believe rumors which you heard," Marian said wrathfully. "Robin is a good man. He may be arrogant and full of himself, but he is kind-hearted and honest. He will do everything to save the king and England. He will sacrifice everything for the sake of England and the King. He is so compassionate that he will gladly give his life for the most humble soul in the world."

Isabella's lips twisted into a small smile as she realized the depths of Marian's affection for Robin.

"You are biased towards him." Archer was irritated with Marian's defensive outburst, but something in his heart rolled over and he hesitated for a moment.

Marian's face contorted with anger. "I am not biased. Robin has always been the king's grand favorite and captain of the private guard. He can have whatever he wants if he only asks the king. Yet, he gave up his titles and lands to stand for justice and help the poor, though he didn't need to live in the forest and could have allowed the sheriff to kill the people whom he saved."

Archer scoffed. "He became Robin Hood for glory. Knowing that the king would eventually pardon him, he considered his life in the woods a mere adventure until the king's return."

"Yet, Robin of Locksley didn't stand up for Guy and me when we were banished from Locksley. He should have helped us, but he didn't do that," Isabella said flatly. "But from what I have heard about Robin Hood, I cannot disagree that he saved many lives and helped people very much."

Marian gave Isabella a warm smile. "You are right, Isabella. Robin Hood saved many lives." Her eyes flew to Archer's face. "And you, Master Archer, want to kill the kind man who saved lives and helped the poor? You are ready to take Hood's life after everything he did for the people?"

Archer gave Marian a chilling, wolfish grin. "Prince John paid me much money for the deaths of King Richard and Robin Hood. And he promised to pay me even more upon our return from Acre."

"How can you think only about money? Don't you have at least some conscience?" Marian fumed. "Are you ready to betray King Richard and your country for coins, for remuneration? Are you ready to kill Robin Hood who would do everything to save our king and who saved many people?" She rose from the bed and stood before Archer, her blue eyes blazing with hot anger. "You are a despicable man! You are a traitor to your king and your country!"

Archer frowned, but then restrained himself and merely nodded his head, once. "You don't know my story, my lady. I have to live with hard, cold pragmatism in my mind to stay alive and support myself, whereas some people have everything from birth and live in luxury." He hinted at Robin.

"I don't know you, but I know that everyone must have human values," Marian shot back.

Archer sighed. "Lady Marian, you were born a noblewoman, and you don't know what poverty is and how bad it can be. You may award yourself the privilege of feeling anger and outrage at the thought of killing the king and his favorite, but I may not. Don't question my motives, for you don't know them."

Yet, Archer greatly hesitated. The recent murder of Guy de Lusignan by Vaisey shocked him even more, raising more questions within him, and the desire to kill Robin, the cherished royal favorite, and take Robin's title after his death battled with an equal desire to let Robin live and learn more about him, for Archer heard many positive things about his heroic half-brother. But he himself used his chance and came to Prince John, offering his services to kill the king and Hood. With a flagitious clarity, Archer realized that he had no one but himself to blame for the matter.

Marian lowered her chin defiantly. "I pity you, Master Archer."

"I don't care what you think." Archer turned around, then marched to the door, slamming it loudly behind himself.

Marian could no longer keep her composure under control, and her face lost its blankness and calmness. She clenched her fists and sat down on the edge of the bed. Isabella shook her head at the vision of the other lady's distress.

"There is something between Robin and you," Isabella said with a hint of sarcasm.

"It is not your deal, Isabella."

"I don't care what you feel for Robin. I just shared with you my observations," Isabella said calmly. "Let's better think how to save ourselves from the sheriff."

"Robin will save King Richard. He will save us, too," Marian said confidently. "I believe in Robin of Locksley. I believe in Robin Hood."

* * *

><p><em>I hope you truly enjoyed this chapter and the plot.<em>

_Well, the sheriff is finally in Acre and is preparing for the regicide attempt in Acre. Some things are similar to what happened in S2E13, but the framework for the regicide attempt is different. _

_King Richard has already signed the peace treaty with Saladin, but the sheriff knows what to do, for he always has a plan like Robin always has half a plan. My Vaisey is a more cunning and resourceful man than he was on the show. Now Vaisey has the crafty plan to lure the king out of the Crusaders' camp into the desert by pretending that the peace treaty may be revoked by Saladin if Richard doesn't agree to discuss possible changes of some terms face-to-face with Saladin. _

_I was shocked that in S2E13 King Richard was stupid enough to believe the words of the so-called Saladin's envoy about Robin's treason without credible evidence. It was really weird that Richard ordered to execute Robin only because of hearsay. I like the idea that Robin is exposed as a traitor and I really want to place Robin in the extreme situation when his loyalty to King Richard is placed under a great test; yet I don't want to make Richard a stupid jerk as he was portrayed on the show. _

_I am trying to correct the flaws we had in the series two finale. There is an effective trap for Robin Hood and his friends, but the circumstances are different because Vaisey is more cunning. Vaisey hired the scribe in Nottingham to produce fake letters proving Robin's alleged treason; these letters are also stamped by the seal similar to that of the Huntingdons._

_Guy and Archer are under a great pleasure. As you see, both Archer and Guy are somehow hesitating to proceed with Vaisey's plan. The murder of Guy de Lusignan had a significant impact on them, and they are also able to see that Vaisey's cunning, cruelty, and wickedness are immeasurable when Vaisey tells them about the plan to have Robin killed by the king. It seems that Guy has to kill the king because he is trapped by the sheriff who threatens to kill both Marian and Isabella if Guy betrays him._

_I don't envy Guy and Archer. And I don't envy Robin either. There are also Marian and Isabella who are kept hostage by the sheriff. They all are in a terrible situation. What will each of them do? __Will Guy or Archer will warn the king and stop in time? Will Marian interfere? What about Isabella?_

_The historical King Richard was a vengeful and temperamental man, and many of his loyal knights feared the explosion of the Angevin temper. And if the king somehow gets these letters into his hands, he will have the written proof of Robin's treason. Can you imagine what will happen? Don't forget that Robin is not only the king's favorite and close friend, but also his half-brother in this story/novel._

_There will be a great drama in the next chapters. Chapters 6, 7, 8, and 9 are the culmination for part 2 of Quintessence. I ask you to be prepared – there are surprises and drama for all character; the triangle Robin/King Richard/Guy with be untangled in a grand and extremely dramatic manner. I was asked by many reviewers who will die and I see that many reviewers, especially those who read me on the Tudors fandom, are guessing whom I am going to kill off – I confirm that there is a character death in chapter 7, but this person maybe either a main character or a minor character. Don't worry: it won't be as bad as you can probably imagine, it will be interesting, and every twist has its purpose. Just enjoy drama._

_I am updating today because I know that you want the promised drama and because today is one of the few days when I have access to Internet; I am travelling now and I spent more than a week on the remote island lost in the ocean, where I am going to return in a day or so. I will try to update within two weeks, but if there are any delays of a week or two this time, then I beg your pardon in advance._

**_Reviews are always appreciated, including well-grounded criticism._**

_If you find any typos and/or mistakes here, please let me know about them in a private message. _

_Thank you for reading this chapter. Have a lovely weekend._

_Yours faithfully, Penelope Clemence_


	7. Chapter 6 Loyalty and Treason

**Chapter 6**

**Loyalty and Treason**

The sun was high in the azure sky, and its strength was ferocious, baking the landscape, so the sand itself shimmered and sparkled in the sunshine. A silence took possession of the Crusaders' camp in the morning hours as the majority of the king's men were still sleeping after the night of drunken dissipation and yesterday's farewell party organized in one of the finest brothels in the southern district of Acre. Not many Crusaders were awake, and some of those who didn't sleep were still in the alcoholic haze and were unable to fight; the king's position was vulnerable at that moment.

Robert de Beaumont wasn't in the king's camp; by the end of the night, he had been so drunk that he had been carried to the Citadel of Acre by his comrades. Carter of Stretton, Roger de Tosny, Aubrey de Vere, and a handful of other guards hadn't drunk much at the party, thinking that it was not time for relaxation despite the peace in the Holy Land; Edmund of Cranfield hadn't attended the party. Robin of Locksley wasn't in the camp because he spent that night with Melisende in Acre.

In the king's spacious tent, there were King Richard, Edmund, Carter, and the Saracen envoy. King Richard was reading Saladin's urgent message, and everyone stood together in an ominous silence, waiting for the king to speak. The messenger arrived unexpectedly, showed Saladin's personal seal, and requested an audience with the King. After he had told Edmund the correct password, he was admitted to the royal tent.

Richard the Lionheart threw the parchment away. A stunned expression spread over his face before anger replaced it. He saw blood, only crimson blood before his eyes. Planting his hands on either side of his hips, he bent his head until his face was inches from the messenger's face. "Why does Saladin want to revoke the peace treaty? Why is he going back on his word?"

Nasir shook his head. "My Sultan is not cancelling the treaty, but he can do that."

The king sighed heavily. "Oh?"

"My Sultan says that he will cancel the peace treaty if you refuse to discuss some issues with him in person. He is prepared to talk, but only face-to-face."

The king's eyes flickered to Carter and Edmund, who were as shocked as Richard himself was. He regretted that he couldn't ask Robin and Robert for their opinion.

"Saladin himself will come?" Richard asked.

Nasir gave a nod. "My Sultan agrees to meet with you, man to man, alone in the desert."

Richard sighed. "Where?"

"Outside Imuiz, the town ruined by your Crusaders," Nasir replied.

"When?" the lion questioned.

"Today at noon," Nasir said.

King Richard regarded Carter and Edmund, hesitating with the answer.

"My liege, is this wise?" Carter looked solicitous.

"Sire, this sounds strange," Edmund noticed.

Nasir's expression showed deceitful regret. "Saladin knew it. You don't want to make any concessions to us, and in this case he will revoke the treaty." He stepped aside, ready to leave.

The king thought for a moment. "Wait." As the messenger turned around, he went on. "We will be there. We will discuss everything in person."

Carter's face fell in mingled disbelief and amazement. "Sire, please consider other options. Let's delay our departure and send our messenger to Saladin in order to arrange an official round of negotiations."

"Milord, let's wait for Robin. He will return from Acre soon," Edmund exhorted.

"No," the king said decisively. "Robin may return even in the afternoon."

Nasir smiled at the sound of Robin's name. "Sire, my master offers you a gift as a sign of his goodwill."

The lion raised a quizzical brow. "What gift?"

"A gift of life," Nasir said emphatically, looking at Carter and Edmund, his gaze indicating silently that he wanted them to be dismissed.

"Leave us," Richard commanded.

Edmund shook his head, Carter said nothing. Both of them reluctantly obeyed.

Nasir stepped closer to face the King. "There are men in your country who would want to kill you."

The king took a step forward. "Thank you, but we already know about the Black Knights. Everything else is out of your Sultan's business."

"They know that you know," Nasir said quietly. "That is why they have recruited two of your most loyal men to kill you."

A deep frown marred Richard's forehead. "Who are they?"

"They are men whom you would trust with your life. One of them is here, in your entourage. Another one may come here and offer to protect you. Later, when the suitable moment comes and your guard is down, one of them will slit your throat."

"Really?" The lion looked doubtful.

"Yes, my King."

"Do you know the names? Do you have the proof of your words?" Richard demanded harshly. "We won't tolerate unsubstantiated accusations towards the people we trust and towards anyone in our entourage."

The messenger sneered at the lion's last words, and then he removed the parchment from his pocket, the one which Vaisey had given him yesterday. "Take this. You will learn who betrayed you."

Richard took the two parchments in his hands, and his eyes fell on the seal – the Earl of Huntingdon's seal, and he shuddered inwardly, his heart leaping with the wild hope that he would find nothing bad inside. He broke the seal on one of the letters and unrolled the parchment, then looked through the contents. He scanned the text again in absolute disbelief, and then his face turned terrified at the recognition of Robin's handwriting and signature which he had known so well.

The king broke the seal on the second parchment, then unfolded it and read the letter. He cursed beneath his breath as he discovered that the second letter was also written in Robin's handwriting. There could have been no mistake, and the letters were obviously written by Robin to Roger de Lacy, the lion's another beloved and loyal knight. Robin and Roger were traitors.

The king cast a suspicious glance at the messenger. "Who gave you these parchments?"

"You allied yourself with the Hashashin. On the same day, Sultan Saladin and Grand Master of the Assassins pledged to inform each another about all existing and possible dangers for your life and Saladin's life. My Sultan kept his word," Nasir proceeded to his tale. "By chance, we caught the messenger who carried this parchment with himself. We didn't know who wrote it and broke the seal; then we saw what was planned to be done to you."

"We will be in the desert, in Imuiz. Now leave," Richard barked.

Nasir bowed. "My Sultan is sorry if the news displeased you, but your life was in danger."

Richard gnashed his teeth. "Get out."

As Nasir left, Edmund and Carter entered the king's tent, looking worriedly at the king who threw away one of the parchments and began pacing the tent. His face turned white with rage, and he felt blood throbbing in his temples. He had never ever been so angry; he was overwhelmed with black fury.

The two parchments contained Robin's secret letters to Roger de Lacy, in which Robin wrote that nothing had changed in his relationship with the king despite his recent rebellion against Prince John in England, which they would use to feed the Black Knights with the information that was necessary to organize a new assassination attempt on King Richard's life. In the same letter, Robin pledged that he would regularly inform de Lacy about the progress of the peace negotiations and the king's plans to leave the Holy Land, so they would be able to design an effective plan to get rid of the King.

Richard stopped, and looked down at the parchment, all his being fighting off the sense of unreality t as his mind was trying to refute the idea that Robin had played such a cruel game with him. He didn't want to believe that Robin was a traitor, but the parchment was sealed by Huntingdon's seal and was also signed by Robin. The lion's heart collapsed at the thought that even his beloved and ever-loyal Robin, his half-brother and his mother's golden boy, had betrayed him. The revelation drove him to the verge of madness. He didn't know what to think and what to do with Robin.

"My liege, are you alright?" Edmund inquired cautiously.

"We are fine!" Richard roared. "Look at what the messenger gave us."

Edmund leaned down and took the parchment from the ground. He looked through the text and groaned in shock. "No, this cannot be true," he said, shaking his head.

Carter also read the letter, his face changing into incredulity. "No, no, no," he murmured.

"This is the proof!" The king waved a hand towards the parchment in Carter's hand. "We even don't need to place the affair under investigation to tell you that this is Robin's seal and handwriting."

"Indeed," Edmund agreed.

Carter blanched. "I cannot believe in that. It must be a mistake."

Sir James of Lambton appeared at the entrance to the tent. He bowed respectfully to the King, watching the lion's nervousness from the corner of his eye.

"James, what do you need?" Richard asked rudely.

"My liege, I have heard that Saladin's messenger was here," James of Lambton said humbly.

Richard sighed heavily. "Saladin may revoke the peace treaty if we don't agree to re-consider several terms. To prevent that, we are meeting with him in the desert at midday."

James gaped at the lion's statement. "Oh, it will be awful if the treaty is cancelled!"

The king turned his gaze at Edmund. "Edmund, arrest the Earl of Huntingdon as soon as he arrives in the camp from Acre. Then bring him to me, in shackles."

Edmund gasped for air. "But sire, we need to–"

Richard cut him off sharply, his Angevin temper flaring up to hellish proportions. "We don't care what you think. If we need your advice, we will ask you," he hissed between clenched teeth. "Arrest all the people whom Huntingdon brought from England. If Roger de Lacy comes here, arrest him, too."

"I… well, yes, of course," Edmund sputtered, going deathly pale.

"Leave," the lion's voice resonated.

Edmund and Carter gave the king grim glances. Unwilling to leave the tent, they still hurried to obey nevertheless, fearing the explosion of temper and thinking of the horrible news about Robin of Locksley and Roger de Lacy. James also left the king's tent, smiling to himself that the sheriff's plan was working and Robin, whom he hated for so long, would be dead soon.

Robin returned to the Crusaders' camp from Acre in a peaceful mood after the meeting with his wife and their long, passionate lovemaking last night. He felt annoyed that he was always accompanied by ten guards, but he no longer allowed himself to leave the camp alone and unprotected in order not to provoke Richard's anger and anxiety. Robin dismounted and gave the reins to one of the young guards. As he wanted to go inside the camp, five guards surrounded him from all the sides.

"Your hands, Robin," Aubrey de Vere, the Earl of Oxford said, not looking at his captain.

Robin sniggered. "Is it a joke?"

"You are under arrest," Roger de Tosny informed coldly.

"And what grounds?" Robin looked confused.

"High treason," de Vere said. "King Richard ordered your arrest."

With a little stupefied expression on his face, Robin theatrically bowed his head. "Then let me present my scimitar to you." He grinned widely. "This is a very good day for making jest of me."

Taking Robin's sword, de Tosny handed it to one of the guards. "If I were in your shoes, Robin, I wouldn't flash your cheeky grins. What you have done is unbelievable and low."

"Well, I don't know what I have done to be accused of treason," Robin said.

Robin allowed the guards to chain his wrists, following the procedure and forcing himself to swallow his humiliation and wrath. Under heavy guard, he was led through the camp in the direction of the king's tent. The king's men watched Robin with grim glances, their eyes full of amusement and disbelief at what was happening to the king's captain.

As they reached the royal tent, Robin's gaze focused on Much and Little John standing in the circle of the guards, their hands bound in front, their faces evolving from bewilderment into dread at the sight of Robin in chains. Robin opened his mouth to say something, but he had no chance as he was pulled inside the king's tent.

Robin was forced to stand on his knees before King Richard, bowing his head submissively. He only managed to notice that there were four people inside the tent – King Richard himself, Edmund, Carter, and James. He felt that Richard observed him, anger emanating from his liege's body even in a distance. He started understanding that it had been very far from a joke as he suspected at first, and uncertainty frightened him so much that he opened his mouth to ask why he had been detained, but the sound died in his throat; something pushed him to keep silent.

"Robin," the king began gravely.

Robin raised his head and stared at the King, his cheeks flushing a shade of rose in agitation. "My liege, with all due respect, I am sorry to say that I don't appreciate such a bad joke."

Holding the parchment in his hands, Richard approached him. "On the contrary, I have never been more serious, my dear Robin," he hissed with venomous sarcasm, so angry that he didn't adhere to the norms of royal protocol in the presence of others. "Lift him from his knees."

Edmund and Carter took Robin's forearms, trying not to be rude and hurt him, and their captain flashed them a charming smile in gratitude for the proper treatment. They put him upright, on his feet. Edmund cast a scornful glance at Robin, his eyes full of disbelief and resentment.

Richard looked disappointed. "Oh, Robin. Of all the people, you."

Robin was at loss. "What happened?"

"You betrayed me, Robin." With a flurry of his white tunic, the king was beside him.

Robin gasped for air, his eyes widening in shock. "I beg my pardon, but I don't understand."

"How could you betray me, Robin?" Richard demanded incredulously.

"Sire, I didn't betray you." Robin was perplexed.

The king drew a deep, agonizing breath. "No, you did. It is just that I was wrong about friends and enemies. Of all the men who have served me, you were the one I loved and trusted the most. I didn't expect that you would step so low and conspire to kill me."

"What?" Robin's expression turned shocked.

Richard shook his head, his eyes revealing pain mingled with disbelief. "When I sent you home to England, I did that to protect you, thinking that you shouldn't risk your life anymore after being almost fatally wounded in the regicide attempt. I thought I was sending away a piece of me; I thought that you would represent me there." He paused, sighing in frustration over and over again. "Instead, you got to Nottingham and ran to the woods, playing a spectacle of Robin Hood. In reality, you were bought by the Black Knights and conspired to murder your King."

Clearly shocked, Robin stared numbly at the lion. "You are wrong."

Richard gave him a murderous glare. "Robin, stop it. I know the truth!"

"What do you know, milord? You are in grave danger from the Black Knights, not me!" Robin cried out, disrespectfully, for he had to defend himself. "I have always been loyal to you!"

"And what will you say about these letters?" Richard was quick to bring the two parchments in front of Robin's eyes to let his captain read the text. "Will you still dare deny the fact of your treason?"

Robin lifted his eyes and glanced at the King. "I deny," he declared, his heartbeat accelerating to a panicky rhythm. "Sire, I have never seen these letters before. I have never plotted to murder you."

"You are a consummate actor, Robin. All your oaths are worthless." The king looked at the prisoner in obvious disdain, then ignored him completely, turning back to him without another glance. "The letters are written in your handwriting and are stamped with your seal, aren't they?"

Robin swallowed painfully. "The handwriting… and the seal… are similar to mine. But I swear on my life that I didn't write these letters to Roger de Lacy, who, I am sure, is also loyal to you."

The lion shot an angry glance at his captain. "Now I understand why our reconnaissance gave us nothing." He smiled grimly. "Of course, you cannot find the spy. It is really ironic that you set traps for the spy and complained to me that neither of them worked."

Robin's expression was stoic. "I have never betrayed you, milord."

But Richard's didn't hear him. "Your own traps couldn't have trapped the spy because you are the spy!"

"You are mistaken, sire," Robin continued the same line.

Richard was near Robin in one huge step. He grabbed the younger man's shoulders and stared into his eyes. "_How could you betray me?_" he whispered into Robin's ear to prevent the others from hearing them. "_I have loved you so much. I have thought that you… are my only brother who deserves my love and trust._" His voice turned lower, vibrating in his chest. "And you betrayed me. You even dared swear your fealty to me on the day when we signed the peace treaty and I told you the truth."

Robin felt his blood freeze. "I didn't betray you." He held his breath, his heart pounding.

His heart tearing apart in pain, Richard stepped aside from Robin. "Don't you know that I can execute you for what you did?"

Robin smiled sadly. "Sire, you can execute me; you are my lord and sovereign, and it is your right. Only remember my words that I have always been at your side."

"I could kill you for your treason!" the king raged, infuriated by his favorite's stubborn denial.

"Order my death, sire, then," Robin invited with challenge. "By the same line of argument it would be treason to defend myself, which I was doing during the last ten minutes."

For a moment, it looked as if Richard were about to draw his sword and strike Robin, for his hand was on the hilt of his sword. Then he turned away with a gesture of clumsy mortification. "Nobody and nothing could make me so angry, Robin. Only you succeeded." He seemed to take no notice of Robin's painful expression before Robin's face turned blank. "Your betrayal and cowardice to make a confession don't make you look honorable at all."

"Sire, hasn't it occurred to you that I may have nothing to confess?" Robin said sarcastically.

"Stop lying, Robin!" Richard twisted his fingers.

"Sire, maybe we are wrong," Edmund interjected.

"My liege, I don't believe that Robin betrayed you. We must investigate," Carter said aloud, his voice firm and loud. "I can vouch for Robin. When I was in England–"

"Quiet, Edmund and Carter," the lion silenced them. "Everything is clear. Robin is a traitor, and we have the proof of that. There is no need to investigate."

"What should we do with this foul traitor and his accomplices, milord?" James questioned.

The lion gazed away. "Assemble the men and execute everyone, except for the Earl of Huntingdon."

"But… Huntingdon is a traitor…" James didn't like what he heard, for it could ruin their plans.

"Silence!" Richard's voice boomed. "Our orders are not discussed. Huntingdon will live."

"As you wish, sire," James muttered.

Carter and Edmund stared at the king in profound shock, stemming from both the accusations of betrayal and the sudden pardon. Carter didn't believe that Robin was a traitor. Edmund doubted the accusation, but hesitated. What astonished them was the king's decision to spare Robin's life.

The king looked at his half-brother from where he stood; there was a dangerous light in his eyes. "We pardon the Earl of Huntingdon as we remember his services to us, for nobody can deny that he saved our life many times, though he schemed behind our backs. He won't be stripped of his titles and estates, but he will remain our prisoner. Under the heavy guard, he will be delivered to Aquitaine and will be held at our beloved mother's court under a house arrest until we decide otherwise."

"For the love of Heaven, sire!" Robin appealed. "Release my friends! They are innocent!"

The king's dark blue eyes met Robin's pale blue orbs. "This cannot be done. They are traitors. I can pardon only you, Robin."

Robin smiled, knowingly and ironically; the king was unable to step over the blood ties they shared through Eleanor of Aquitaine. "Milord, what should I do to atone for my transgressions and sins?"

"Robin, don't test my patience," the lion bit the words savagely between strong, white teeth.

Carter and Edmund were shaking in fear, listening to the conversation between Robin and King Richard. They feared that the king would kill Robin on the spot, with his own sword, for the lion was apparently outraged and distressed beyond measure. There was only one man who could pacify the king's temper – the Earl of Leicester; he could even persuade the king to wait and change his decision about the execution; but the king's grand favorite wasn't there. Of course, Carter and Edmund admired Robin's boldness, also condemning his foolish recklessness and disrespectful behavior towards the King; they were relieved and amazed that Robin was still alive after his speech.

At the same time, the group of four people appeared near the entrance to the camp. It included Roger de Lacy, Allan, Will, and Djaq, each of them out of breath after running in the desert from the walls of Acre to the camp. De Lacy and Allan arrived in Acre only three hours ago and immediately made their way to the Bassam's house, for they needed to know where the king's camp was in case the Crusaders had moved on. Will and Djaq accompanied Allan and de Lacy, feeling that they could somehow help to stop the sheriff and Gisborne.

"I must see King Richard! Now! Now!" Roger de Lacy stated, struggling to catch his breath.

"Your password?" one of the young guards asked.

"Thesaurus Patriae," Allan responded, winking at de Lacy.

De Tosny approached the newcomers. "Roger de Lacy," he greeted, sighing deeply and apprehending new arrests ahead. "The password is correct. You can go to the king's tent," he permitted.

De Lacy rushed through the camp, the others trailing behind him. They noticed an ominous silence in the camp, which puzzled them. The king's men looked curiously at de Lacy, whispering something and backing away from them. They paused near the royal tent as Richard stepped outside.

Roger de Lacy sank to one knee, his head bowed. "My liege, I bring grave news."

"And you too, Roger," King Richard said sorrowfully. "I have loved you so much."

De Lacy snapped his head up in astonishment, but he didn't ask anything and spoke. "Sire, Gods be blessed that you are alive! The Sheriff of Nottingham and the Black Knights are plotting against you. Now the sheriff is coming here to kill you. They should have already arrived in Acre."

"The sheriff is very cunning. He plans to murder you," Allan stated.

"Seriously?" The king released a deep sigh.

"Sire, you have to let us protect you," de Lacy said.

"Oh, Roger, why did you do that?" the king drawled, his gaze shifting to Edmund. "Arrest them."

"Milord, what is going on? We came here to save you." De Lacy looked dismayed and confused. He didn't say anything else as James of Lambton knocked him out with his broadsword. De Lacy's limp body tumbled to the sand, and the guards hurried to tie up his wrists.

Shocked and dumbfounded, Allan shared uneasy glances with Will and Djaq. Then they turned their gaze and noticed Much and Little John chained and surrounded by the king's men.

"Mercy, Your Majesty! Ut prosim!" Much bewailed.

"Silence before the King!" James shouted, then slapped Much hard across his cheek.

Robin wrenched out of Edmund's grip and stepped outside the tent. "These people are innocent. If you must take a life, take mine. Spare them."

The king scoffed. "At last. That's the Robin I remember – a man who considers others."

"He is still the Robin you remember," Djaq intervened, shocked to see the chained Robin.

"I saved your life, sire! Don't you remember that? Don't I have a right to ask for sparing someone's life after saving yours?" Robin pleaded. "Spare these people."

The lion turned to Robin. "We cannot grant your wish, Robin. We won't take your life, but the others must be punished. But you saved our life many times and we have not forgotten that. We will make you a gift: we won't take their lives." He ran his gaze over the traitors. "We will let the desert decide."

Much found himself shivering in fear. "The desert? Well, what does that mean? Decide what?"

"No, I hate the desert. I already feel like one of the corpses," Allan moaned.

The corner of Djaq's mouth curved in a waspish giggle. "Your protest changes nothing."

"What are they gonna do with us?" Allan inquired, his eyes on the king's large figure indignantly.

"Oh, my Lord, it is insane," Will lamented.

One of the guards unceremoniously pushed Much ahead, motioning to move towards the exit from the Crusaders' camp. Much intercepted Robin's heated, pleading glance, in which the innocent captain put all his devotion to his former manservant, together with unspoken farewell words in case they never saw each other again. Much realized what the king meant: they would die in the desert from the heat and thirst, like the king had done to some of the prisoners in the past.

There was a stir of quick movement and clear orders given in strained voices in Norman-French as the victims of the king's mistake were dragged out of the king's camp and into the desert. Allan and Will stumbled and fell, their knees digging into the sand, but they were pulled back to their feet. Much shot the guards a hateful glance, and one of them punched him in his stomach. Roger de Lacy was unconscious, his weight fully supported by James and another guard. Only Little John and Djaq looked calm, walking on their feet and staring down, on the sand.

"How splendid, milord," Robin said, sneering, then sighed heavily. "You are right that your choice of punishment for me actually does make it worse to live than to die. You are one of the most cunning men I have ever met in my life. You know that I hate when the innocents are dying."

The king threw him a slighting glare. "I am letting you live only because of her, for she will never forgive me if I execute you," he said quietly. "Your punishment will be the guilt for the deaths of your friends you will carry until your last breath."

"Thank you, sire. Thank you for your most benevolent act of mercy," Robin murmured acidly. "I am entirely helplessness to save my innocent friends, which makes me feel absolutely worthless."

"Take him away. See to it that he is treated respectfully," the lion ordered.

As he was led away, Robin lingered his gaze on the King of England, his half-brother and beloved friend, whom he loved so much in spite of the gravest mistake Richard had committed today. Robin felt someone's hand on his shoulder, urging him to move. Then Roger de Tosny and Aubrey de Vere took Robin about his shoulders, surprisingly gently. Yet, their eyes were full of contempt and disbelief that Robin had betrayed their liege; Robin shivered under their icy sidelong gazes.

Something tight and painful shook loose in his chest at the thought that the king had chosen not to believe him. Kings also made mistakes, Robin mused, and he could resign to that. But Richard was also his brother, and somehow his blood ties to the king seemed much more important than their bonds of friendship and the affection of a loyal subject for his king. Richard wrongly believed he was a traitor, and that awoke the powerful emotions of pain and heartache in Robin.

Disappointment and pain filled Robin's heart at the memory of Richard's words – that the deaths of his friends would be his punishment for the betrayal of his king. He knew that Richard was a cruel and vengeful man, but never before had he thought that the king could ever turn against him. And yet, he could understand why that happened – Robin himself saw the fake letters written in the calligraphic handwriting that was so similar to his; he also saw the Earl of Huntingdon's personal seal. It was the plot against him, and there was only one man who could have stayed designed Robin's downfall so proficiently – that man was Sheriff Peter Vaisey of Nottingham.

It was Vaisey's entire fault, not King Richard's fault, Robin persuaded himself. Undoubtedly, Vaisey had planned everything in advance. Now Robin had to do something to save the king and his friends. He only prayed that he would find a way and would have a chance because now only God could help him.

§§§

Marian looked out of the window, staring at the vast expanse of the pale yellow sand. She dreaded the moment of their arrival in the Holy Land, to the place that could easily become a grave for King Richard, Robin, herself, or anyone else. She wondered how so many men could have fought in the despondent, death-like lands for years, wondering whether they had lost their minds to the spell of the enigmatic sands that surrounded them day and night there.

"Where is Guy?" Marian said aloud, but to herself.

Isabella glanced at her companion with amusement. "Talking to yourself?"

"It seems so."

The door shot open, and Guy strode into the room, wearing black leather despite the heat and looking every inch the devil, with eyes like night fires and fury on his handsome face. His gaze fell on Isabella at once, so virulent that it struck terror into the ladies' chests.

Guy paused near the bed and stared at Isabella, neglecting to look at Marian. "Damn you, Isabella! You are a married woman. Be decent and don't tempt this assassin!" he shouted.

Shocks of fear crept up along Isabella's spine. "Guy, have you gone mad?"

"Don't play games, Isabella." Guy's eyes narrowed. "I know why Archer is coming here. He comes to you because you are seducing him. You also tell him bad things about me to make him pity you."

"Guy, you are as crazy as your master," Isabella cried out, her eyes narrowing. "Archer is an assassin, but he is a gallant man and doesn't treat women as badly as you do. He comes here either to bring us food or to ask whether we need something."

"Isabella, I prohibit you to talk to Archer," Guy hissed. "It also concerns you, Marian."

"Guy, you are incorrect," Marian said absent-mindedly.

"I prohibit!" Guy roared.

"You can prohibit us nothing, Guy of Gisborne," Isabella fired. "Go to your master and lick his boots for his favor. You are incapable of doing something else."

Guy paled as rage swept through him. He came to Isabella and wanted to strike her, but Marian held his hand back. "This is unthinkable," Marian charged. "What insanity seized you?"

Guy shook his head, reality claiming him again. "I am sorry."

Holding Guy's arm, Marian glanced into her husband's stormy eyes. "Guy, don't kill the king. You are a decent man. This is... your last chance to be a good man."

Guy turned around and walked to the door. Before opening it, he spin and looked at Marian, his eyes cold, his expression hard. "Robin Hood's life is forfeit. Nothing can be changed now."

"What?" Marian was shocked by his cynical and hateful tone.

Guy nodded. A blank look settled over his face. "Nothing can be changed," he repeated.

"You cannot mean that." Marian shook her head in disbelief.

Gisborne sent his wife a look that would have felled a lesser woman. Marian merely stared back, which served to increase his anger with her. "I mean precisely what you heard."

"My Lord!" Marian crossed herself.

"I am sorry, Marian." Gisborne looked Marian with a silent apology in his eyes, which surprised her.

"Ha!" Marian said in derision. "You think that a simple apology is enough to justify your actions, Guy? Do you really possess such an insolence that you can apologize for killing the king and Robin as if you were apologizing not for treason and murder, but for being awkward on a dance floor?"

Guy approached Marian and put his hands on her shoulders. "Marian, you have no right to tell me anything! You trapped us by your foolish actions in Nottingham when you tried to kill Vaisey!"

Marian scoffed. "And what else should I do when you wanted to kill our liege? I had to stop you!"

Guy bent his head down and whispered into Marian's ear, "I told you that I don't want to kill the king. For whatever reason, I even don't want to kill Hood."

Isabella smiled. She didn't hear them, but she suspected what they were discussing.

"Kill the sheriff," Marian whispered.

Gisborne sighed. "I have to kill the king to save you and Isabella," he murmured into her ear. "I cannot kill Vaisey because you are guarded by the nine highly trained mercenaries who will kill me and slash throats of Isabella and you if I try to escape with you or if I kill the sheriff."

Guy drew back from Marian, looking into her eyes. He hoped to see a sign of some understanding into her sapphire blue eyes, but instead he saw only black rage.

"I understand you, but I am fed up with your arguments," Marian said aloud, this time not whispering but speaking in a loud, clear voice. "Remember my words: if you do something bad to the king or Robin, I will never forgive you for that."

Guy took a step back, his expression grim; he didn't expect to hear something like that from Marian. "Even if you never forgive me, at least you will be alive and safe."

"Don't be astonished, Guy," Marian said coldly. "I myself would gladly die for the king and England."

"You won't die, Marian. I will protect you," Guy said.

Isabella smiled ironically. "Brother, you showed fine protection to us since we had left England."

Gisborne ignored Isabella. "I will protect you," he repeated.

"But even if you protect me or us, someone else may die," Marian said apprehensively.

"Better someone else than you," Guy parried. He moved towards the door, then hesitated but reached out to open it and went out of the room. His heart craved to stop this madness and the sheriff, but there was no way he could have done something right now.

Marian was silent for a while, more deeply hurt than she showed on her face. "What did they do?"

Isabella shrugged. "Sheriff Vaisey is a devil. He can do everything."

Marian stared at Guy's sister in woeful despair. She didn't wish to think that everything was lost. She couldn't admit that Guy had failed her and that Robin was dead. Her face was stony, but her heart was bleeding; she began to pray, offering deep and sincere pleas to God to save Robin and King Richard. She had to do something to save the king, Robin, and England, but she seemed to have no options.

Marian and Isabella didn't spend much time together during their journey as Guy tried to keep Marian close to himself, while Isabella spent time in Archer's company. Now they were in the same room and lay shackled on the same bed, both the prisoners whose fate was at Vaisey's mercy. Uncertainty gnawed at both of them, like water wearing away a stone, making the waiting an agony.

"Why did you marry my brother?" Isabella asked Marian. "He is a monster. He allows Vaisey to treat you, his own wife, so despicably, as if you were nothing."

"I had my own reasons for marrying Guy," Marian replied, not intending to share her thoughts with Guy's sister, for she instinctively didn't trust her.

"Wasn't Robin a better choice?" Isabella persisted.

Marian sighed. At the words about Robin, her cheeks flushed with excitement, which she was unable to hide. "Why does that matter, Lady Isabella?"

Isabella's brows flew upward. "Unwillingness to talk with me overwhelms you."

"You are wrong."

"I am right," Isabella parried. "You are a brilliant actress, but not as good as you think."

"What do you mean by that?"

Isabella chuckled. "You play a role of a proper and good wife in Guy's presence, and don't think that I didn't notice that. Yet, you still fail to hide your excitement when Robin's name is mentioned by the sheriff and Guy." She reached up to brush the hair back from his temple with her fingers. "It happens rarely, very rarely, but when the sheriff is discussing Robin Hood's death, your eyes betray your true thoughts before turning blank."

Marian offered an amazed look of hers before glancing at Guy's sister with an expression in her sapphire blue eyes that was both hard and unrelenting. "You are wrong," she repeated.

"Come on, Lady Marian," Isabella said. "I am an observant woman. You feign your indifference to Robin of Locksley. You don't want his death, unlike the sheriff and my brother."

"Indeed, I don't want Robin dead," Marian acknowledged. "And I don't want the king dead either."

"Well, I would say that you feel something for Robin."

Marian felt anger boiling in her veins. "Lady Isabella, I am married to Guy, your brother. I am a decent woman, and I am not going to discuss another man with you."

Isabella reached out for Marian's hand and took it in her own. "I am not your enemy."

"I hope so."

"We should be less formal. After all, we are relatives, and I have known you since childhood."

"I don't mind," Marian conceded.

"I asked you about Robin because I was astonished that you married Guy. I remember Robin and you in childhood, before Guy and I were banished from Locksley. You and Robin were always together; you followed him everywhere; you enjoyed and laughed at his incredible tricks and pranks." She squeezed glanced right into Marian's eyes. "And I am anxious about your fate because I don't think that you are very happy with my brother. I know how cruel Guy can be to the people."

Marian glanced attentively at Isabella, wondering whether she was sincere. "My betrothal to Robin was broken when Robin went to fight in the Holy Land." She averted her eyes. "When Robin returned, many things changed: we both changed and he was declared an outlaw."

"Robin is no longer an outlaw, and Guy has nothing."

"Yes, King Richard pardoned Robin," Marian added.

"Well, you are definitely anxious about his fate."

"Well, whoever Robin is – a mighty Earl or a righteous outlaw, I feel nothing but a human sympathy with him," Marian said firmly, her face devoid of emotions. "He is a human being, and I don't want him to be killed."

Isabella giggled. "Oh, I don't believe you. Pretend in front of Guy, but not me."

Marian withdrew her hand, furious. "Isabella, you are talking nonsense."

"Well, then so be it," the older lady conceded. "I have to say that I don't sympathize with Robin as he is partly responsible for our banishment. Thanks to Robin, we starved in Normandy for many years."

"I know this story. Guy told me everything."

Isabella's eyes widened in disbelief. "Really?"

"Yes," Marian confirmed.

"Do you know what Guy did to me?" Isabella asked suddenly, her voice shaking. "Guy didn't care about my fate after we had married me off to Squire Thornton in Angers. He was very cruel to me, and he felt no remorse at all."

"Guy told me that he arranged a marriage for you because he didn't have enough money to support you. I believe that he didn't want to part with you, but he had to do that to give you a better life."

"A better life?" Isabella cried out, her heart beating harder at the memory of her husband. "Can you call a life with a cruel monster as my husband a better life? Do you suppose that I was happy with a man who humiliated and beat me for so many years, who was cruel enough to kill me?"

Marian looked abashed. "Oh my God! I am sorry that you had to live through hell."

Isabella looked angry. "Guy wasn't sorry when he married me off to Squire Thornton, Vaisey's second cousin by the way." Her face evolved into fury. "He sold me for money, like a slave on the market, and then forgot about me. I am his sister, his only living relative, but he still sold me!"

"I understand your anger, Isabella, but I think that Guy didn't know about your husband's cruelty."

"Guy could write to me at least once, but he completely forgot about me," Isabella whispered. "All the men are worthless and cruel bastards. Women have to be obedient and sweet with them, bear their children and satisfy their carnal needs, while they give orders, spend money, go into the battle to get their damned glory, sleep with their wives to plant their seed in them and whore themselves out for their sheer pleasure."

"I have to agree with you, but only partly." Marian had always thought that women were unfairly considered inferior to men in the class society. They shared an understanding and a sense of solidarity on the matter. "But not all men are cruel and vile. There are decent and honest men too."

Isabella laughed recklessly. "I don't think so."

Guy walked to the front door and then outside the house, where the sheriff and Archer were waiting for their Turkish accomplices to come. They stood in an oppressing silence for several minutes, Guy and Archer gazing somewhere into the sandy dunes and Vaisey's eyes darting between Guy and Archer. As they spotted Nasir and Karim in a distance, Vaisey started humming a merry song.

"Happiness?" The sheriff grinned maliciously.

"Almost happiness," Nasir replied.

Vaisey pursed his lips. "Why? Did the king agree? Will he attend the meeting?"

Nasir nodded. "Mm-hm."

"And, where is Robin Hood?" Vaisey inquired.

Nasir shook his head. "Oh, Captain Locksley…"

The sheriff grinned like a Cheshire cat. "Oh, tell me something good! Did daddy punish Hood, eh?"

"We have a problem," Nasir said sadly.

"What?" Vaisey's voice sounded impatient.

"King Richard ordered to execute every traitor, even Roger de Lacy, but excluding Robin of Locksley," Nasir reported. "Our spy, James, told us that the Lionheart was furious and almost executed Locksley, but eventually he backed away and only ordered to detain his captain."

Sheriff Vaisey recoiled in shock. Guy and Archer stared at Nasir, nonplussed.

"Are you kidding me, Nasir?" Vaisey shot his accomplice an incredulous look.

"No, it is true," Nasir said seriously. He told them what he learnt from James.

"This is not what I want! Damn Robin Hood! Why does he always come out of the trouble?" Vaisey gritted his teeth. "But will James deal with Hood?"

"The king had Robin of Locksley arrested," Nasir pointed out. "James hates Locksley. He is going to kill him later, in the camp."

"Remember that Prince John won't be pleased with Robin Hood's death," Archer said all at once.

The sheriff giggled. "Archy, are you stupid? You came here to kill the king and Hood, but you seem to… hesitate. You are becoming weak, like Gisborne."

"I just brought an important issue to your attention," Archer shot back.

Guy eyed Archer suspiciously. "I have thought of you as a boaster and a braggart since I saw you in Portsmouth. You are not what you seem."

"Oh, I may show you what I can do if you wish that," Archer threatened.

Vaisey smiled. "Stop, boys. We have more important deals now. Don't argue and spoil my today's fun." He hugged Nasir, then looked at Karim. "So, Karim, my dear boy, you know what to do."

"What if King Richard knows how Saladin looks like?" Karim looked alarmed.

"Well, no matter. You are not stopping for a chat with the king, are you, huh?" Vaisey eased the man's fear.

Karim nodded. "Of course, we won't drink wine with him."

The sheriff let out an unpleasant laugh, his jeweled teeth gleaming in his mouth. He motioned with two fingers for them to go, and the Saracens nodded in agreement.

Vaisey came to Guy and patted his shoulder. "Gisborne, there is something I must do. Go with them."

"Yes, my lord," Guy obeyed, unwillingly turning on his heel and following Nasir, Karim, and Archer. He didn't see that the sheriff watched him leave, with a sly look on his face.

A villainous plan forming in his mind, Vaisey slowly walked to the room where Marian and Isabella were held captives. He noiselessly opened the wooden door and entered the stuffy chamber, looking at the two women, exhausted with the unbearable heat and constant disquietude. Today was the day of his ultimate triumph, and he wanted to see the defeated lion and the two dead tigresses which were eating away at his nerves since they had departed from Nottingham. Hood could wait, he decided, but his gut feeling told him that Robin would grant all of them a surprise today.

"Good chickens," the sheriff drawled. He stopped near Marian, who stood near the window. "I owe you a debt of gratitude, young lady." He tossed the drumstick at her, hitting her in the buttocks. "Thanks to you, I know that Guy is loyal. If you failed to turn him against me, then nobody can do this."

Marian glared at him. "What?"

Vaisey smiled, pleased. "On the ship, I overheard that you, my little missy, asked Gizzy to kill me. And he refused." He sniggered. "But Gisborne still needs a lesson."

Marian paled. Her heartbeat quickened, and her breathing stumbled to keep up. "Your heart... must be the coldest place on Earth." All hope was lost.

"And what now?" Isabella was frightened, though her face didn't betray her emotional tumult.

"And now we have served our purpose," Marian finished for Vaisey.

"No!" Isabella put a hand on her mouth, her face twisting in horror. "You won't dare kill us!"

Vaisey smiled at Guy's sister maliciously. "Oh, believe me, I will dare, my leper ladies." His gaze shifted to Marian. "Missy, you tried to kill me! Do you think I'm going to forgive you? Never ever!"

"I know," Marian said briefly, thinking that Guy was an utter fool.

"You cannot kill us! You cannot!" Isabella screamed in rage, jumping from the bed like a panther. "You don't know what will happen to you if I don't return alive to England and if you dare kill me here."

"Enough." The sheriff came to Isabella, smiling at her. "You are beautiful, by the way, my leper. But Gizzy needs a lesson… to become a stronger and crueler man." He outstretched his arms. "I want Guy to be the boy he used to be when I met him in Normandy. He was hateful, cruel, and decisive, with a firm hand which chopped off heads, hands, and fingers and killed anyone at my order." His arms went to his sides. "He could do everything for me." He pointed a finger at Marian. "But you, my dear Lady Marian, took old Gisborne from me, and I will never forgive you for that."

"Leave Isabella out of this," Marian said hollowly.

"No, I cannot do that for you, my beauty." The sheriff scowled. "I want to change Gizzy. You both can take his loyalty from me. I don't tolerate divided loyalties, and that's why you must die." He leaned forward, then wrapped his arm around Isabella's throat. "I am sorry, my blue-eyed leper Gizzy's sister, but I want Guy to be maddened with grief. Grief will make him as cruel and angry as I need."

Isabella's eyes glittered with danger. "My death means your own death warrant."

"A sharp-toothed tigress, with much venom in blood," Vaisey commented. "It is a pity you have to die."

"You will go to hell." Marian shook her head.

Vaisey released Isabella, his eyes glaring at Marian. "Only after you, missy. Well then... just as a good thing, for you can die with some of Robin Hood's friends in the desert."

Marian and Isabella exchanged shocked glances.

The door flung open and Vaisey's French mercenaries came inside, with one treacherous Crusader behind them. The mercenaries freed them from their shackles, and then tied their wrists, roughly pushing them towards the door and not losing a chance to maul the ladies.

Isabella stumbled on the front steps of the house. "Where are we going?"

"You will learn, very soon. Be patient," Vaisey replied.

Isabella began struggling with her captors. "Let me go! Let me go!"

"What a spirited lass!" James of Lambton exclaimed.

"She is a leper, James," the sheriff said. "Lepers are not worth attention."

James laughed. "I don't agree with you, Lord Vaisey. After so many years in the Holy Land, any Englishwoman would seem pretty to be your bedmate if she is slender and not ugly."

Isabella screwed up in disgust. Marian huffed and gazed away. The mercenaries giggled.

"Lepers bring many problems. I prefer power over them," Vaisey said.

"A wise choice," James agreed.

At the same time, the innocent traitors were tied up to the poles in the desert. The sun savagely blazed down at the king's victims. Everyone went very still, barely able to breathe in the hot, stuffy air. They prayed for a miracle to survive, hoping that Robin would escape and rescue them. There was no sign that someone was coming and lethal fog was slowly crawling enveloping them with every heartbeat. No one couldn't believe that they would die in the desert, all the more at the order of King Richard, whom they came to save from the sheriff.

Allan swept his eyes over the long row of prisoners, all of them tied up to the poles in the desert. "Yeah, I would rather stay in Nottingham and die there than in this terrible place."

"I would love to see King Richard now. I missed him in England," Roger de Lacy said with a sort of irritating sweetness. Having regained his consciousness not so long ago, he had to face the spectacular truth – that he would die a pointless and shameful death of a traitor after he, together with Allan, had hastily traveled across half of the world to save the king from the sheriff.

Allan frowned. "Are you gonna say that the king is not guilty?"

"It is the sheriff's fault," de Lacy stated firmly. "Anyway, you must be content and proud that you are dying for your king and for England, even if you are not there."

Allan rolled his eyes; de Lacy was as staunchly loyal to the king as Robin. "Hey, Roger, I am not being funny, but it is the King of England who put us here. Why are you saying that?"

"Don't blame our King," de Lacy repeated insistently. "The sheriff plotted to trap Robin and all of us. I should have killed him in England."

Djaq giggled. "Like Robin."

"Yeah, Robin… Only he can save us," Much muttered.

"If he manages to escape," Will added.

"Robin will save us! He will flee and come here! Don't lose hope! I believe in Robin!" Much twittered enthusiastically. "Robin is like a little bird. He always returns to his home. We are his home."

De Lacy was skeptical. "I am not so sure."

"Why? Do you doubt Robin?" Will inquired.

"Robin must be well guarded," de Lacy explained. "Perhaps, he was knocked out as well."

"And we will die?" Allan asked in half a whisper.

"Who knows?" De Lacy was pessimistic.

Tears came to Will's eyes. "I am sorry, my love. I should have made you stay with Bassam when Allan and Roger came."

Djaq swallowed a lump forming in her lower throat. "I would have never left you, Will Scarlett."

Much gazed into a distance, his eyes taking in the yellow sand and instinctively searching for Robin. "If we can just survive until nightfall, then you know."

Little John drew a deep breath. "Then what?"

"Then... it will be cooler," Much said soothingly.

Allan let out a small laugh. "Cooler? It will be freezing."

Much's face fell. "I know. But it won't be hot. This heat..."

"Much, we don't have till nightfall," Djaq said sadly.

Much saw a glimmering apparition of two women in a distance. He lifted his head, trying to focus his vision on the female figures, and then he noticed that there were several horses riding towards him.

"I can see something!" Much exclaimed. "Someone is coming!"

The others stared at the distant figures, calling them out despite their dry mouths and feeling every muscle of their bodies strained. They desperately didn't want to reconcile with the fact that nothing could have saved them. Only de Lacy was quiet, skeptical about the possibility of salvation.

"Much is right," Allan agreed.

"Over here!" Djaq screamed.

"Help! Help!" they cried out together.

"They have seen us!" Much was overjoyed.

"God is smiling on us!" Djaq laughed.

"Or Allah!" Will backed up his bride.

Staring at the horsemen behind the women, Allan gurgled with laughter as he recognized the sheriff riding on a white stallion. "Devil is laughing at us. This is the sheriff."

Much sighed in frustration. "There is no God."

The sheriff smirked at the sight of Robin Hood's gang and friends tied up to the poles as common criminals. They stopped near the prisoners and dismounted. Then James released Isabella and Marian from their ties to the saddles, pushing the two ladies ahead. Vaisey's French mercenaries were not with them, for the sheriff didn't wish them to take part in the regicide.

Vaisey smirked. "See, that's the trouble with foreign travel. You run into all the same people that you see at home," he said as he pushed Isabella around the pole to de Lacy's back.

Isabella stared at de Lacy in astonishment. "Monsieur de Lacy?"

De Lacy smiled charmingly. "At your service, my lady."

"You are revolting," Much spat.

"No, I am just... a clever man," the sheriff objected. "I am only plotting a sudden and decisive change of the leader." He took off a glove, his fingers stroking the hot metal of the ring with his own insignia. "Oh, well, you see, I will soon see the king wandering out into the desert alone, unarmed, ready to meet his enemy, and then... England will have a new King."

"Foul Traitor! Traitor!" Much screwed up his face, looking at James.

"Get off me," Marian grumbled as James tied her to the opposite side of Much's pole.

"I see that your friend, your dear Robin Hood, deserted you." An insolent grin stretched across Vaisey's face. "Where is our pretty goodie-doer? Why is he not here with his… outlaw friends?"

"A remark," Little John said. "We are not outlaws anymore."

"It doesn't matter, my darlings. You are traitors in the king's eyes." The sheriff laughed. "I understand you have met my colleague, Sir James of Lambton."

James raised his left hand in the air. "We meet again." He opened his palm, revealing the sheriff's ring on his middle finger "Captain Locksley is a fool! He failed to discover me!"

Much regarded James with disgust. "James, you let the Black Knights buy you."

"I work for myself and power," James answered.

"James, you are a rat," Roger de Lacy noticed.

James scoffed. "I am so happy to see you dying here, Roger de Lacy. It is a pity that your friend Robin of Locksley is not here. But he will be dead soon, I promise."

"Vaisey, your minutes are numbered," Marian threatened. "Guy will kill you later."

The sheriff laughed. "Only if he learns what really happened to you, my little leper friend." He lifted his head to the sky, blinking in the blistering rays of the hot sun. "Oh, blah-di-blah-di-blah, I would love to stay, but I don't tan well. Do excuse us, for we have the king to kill. Come along, James."

§§§

Although Robin was detained, he was placed in his own tent; he was guarded by several Crusaders, one inside the tent and five outside. His imprisonment was comfortable: the Crusaders didn't dare treat him poorly and disrespectfully as the king pardoned him for the supposed high treason and instructed to treat him properly. His hands were bound in the front, giving him some mobility to move, and his legs were not shackled, to his great delight and surprise. Dressed in his white Crusader tunic, he lay on the large wooden bed, covered with white silk sheets up to his chest.

Robin felt the icy chill inside at the thought that his innocent friends from Sherwood and his war comrade Roger de Lacy would die because of the sheriff's plot. His heart was beating so wildly that he felt frantic and had to force himself to think calmly. He had to save the king and his friends. His mind invented conniving plans one after another, all his being concentrated on the single idea of escaping from the camp and getting into the desert where his friends were dying.

Sheriff Peter Vaisey of Nottingham was at fault. The devil of Nottingham arrived in Acre to murder King Richard. The choking emotions of mingled anger and hatred filled him to the core. He didn't remember himself being ever so angry with any other man, for he hated Vaisey with each and every part of his heart. Dread and fear replaced worry, for he wouldn't be able to protect the king if he remained chained. His mind whirled in search of a plan to escape and save the king and his friends.

The escape and rescue plan was complicated with only one circumstance – he was disarmed, his scimitar and a curved dagger taken away after his arrest. Two more daggers he had kept in his tent and Much's weapons were also confiscated. Somehow he had to unlock the shackles on his wrists, but he needed a dagger, a brooch, or another sharp tool to do that. Moving his body under the sheet, he experimentally touched the shackles, his fingers assessing the complexity of the locking mechanism.

The thought that he had Marian's sapphire brooch in the tent struck him, and it was his saving grace. It was the same brooch that she had given him on the day of his capture in Nottingham after he had been just outlawed and the sheriff had planned to hang him. It also was his gift to Marian, which he had given her many years ago, when he had courted her before his departure to the Holy Land.

Robin smiled languidly as the image of Marian flickered in his mind. The brooch was one of the very few reminders of Marian he still possessed, another one being the sapphire engagement ring, not the one he had given her over a fresh grave in the forest, but the old ring, silver and simple in its design, which he had given her on the day when he had proposed to her before the Crusade.

Robin opened his eyes, Roger de Tosny's flaming head coming into the picture in the opposite part of the tent. He had to somehow outsmart Roger. "Where is King Richard?"

"Why do you care, Robin?" Roger de Tosny asked frigidly.

"I care for him. I don't want him dead."

"Don't lie to me, you traitor," Roger snapped scornfully. "I have seen your letter for de Lacy."

"This is a fake letter."

"Why did you betray the king?" Roger's voice was edged with hurt and anger; he resented his captain, but he still found it difficult to believe in Robin's treason. "You were one of the best warriors, rivaling only with the king himself, Sir Robert de Beaumont, and a few others. The king has loved you more than anyone else. And what did you do? You repaid him by committing treason."

"I didn't do that," Robin insisted.

A tense silence stretched between them. Before the silence became too awkward and too unbearable, there was a welcome interruption from de Tosny.

Roger shook his head. "I thought that you are a good man, but you are no better than Gisborne."

"Well, you may think whatever you want."

"The king has forgiven you. We all don't know why he has been so lenient towards you and even hasn't stripped you of all the titles," Roger continued indignantly. "The king should have made an example of you and order your public execution." The man was so angry with his captain that he himself would have probably strangled Robin if the lion hadn't ordered to take care of his disgraced favorite.

Robin looked at Roger from the corner of his eye. His expression was one of barely controlled anger. His chest rose and fell with his angry breathing. "Maybe you will shut up, Roger."

"Gladly."

"It is so warm here," Robin continued after a short pause.

De Tosny leapt to his feet from the chair and came to Robin. He regarded the younger man through shuttered eyes. "What can I do for you?"

Robin feigned vulnerability. "I am as hot as the sand under the midday sun."

"What do you want?" De Tosny looked confused.

"Take the sheet away from me, please. Don't I deserve at least some comfort?"

"No, you don't mean that, Robin. I am not your servant."

Robin grinned, his face purely innocent. "I mean exactly what you heard, Roger," he said brazenly. "The king ordered you to treat me respectfully. As you took Much from me and my squire Lionel is not allowed to see me, you must serve me."

"Do you really like being so insolently defiant to everyone?"

Robin perked his head up. "How dare you talk to me in this way? Have you forgotten who I am?" he fumed, playing a role of an insulted and spoiled aristocrat. "I am captain of the private guard! I am the Earl of Huntingdon and Count de Bordeaux! I am married to King Richard's cousin! I am the king's grand favorite!" He narrowed his eyes slightly. "I swear that you will answer to me! I will inform King Richard that you humiliated me and disregarded your King's orders!"

Annoyed by Robin's theatrics, Roger de Tosny rolled his eyes skyward, thinking that Robin had been just a brat spoiled by the royal favor and the people's love.

"A moment, Robin, and I will take the sheet away," Roger conceded.

De Tosny stepped forward and paused near the bed. Roger leaned down to take the sheet, and Robin threw himself up on his comrade, pulling de Tosny to himself and wrapping his arms around the other man's back. In a matter of seconds, Robin's hand found a dagger on the Crusader's belt, the blade resting against Roger's neck. Transfigured with fury, Robin dominated the situation at that moment.

"Shhh," Robin murmured, smiling at Roger.

Their eyes locked, Robin's eyes twinkling with mischief and Roger's emanating fury.

Roger's breathing accelerated. "I should have known that you would do something."

"I am a thief," Robin reminded, smiling impishly. "My movements are agile and barely noticeable."

"You won't be pardoned again, Robin."

"Oh, believe me I will."

"Bloody traitor," Roger growled between set teeth.

There was sadness in Robin's eyes. "I am not a traitor." He clenched his fist, still holding the blade at Roger's neck. "I am sorry. I don't want to hurt you but I must." Then he slammed his fist into Roger's face, rendering him unconscious.

Pulling Roger's body from his body, Robin let it fall on the ground from the bed. He eyed de Tosny, sighing; his face was sheer remorse for an instant before turning into seriousness and attentiveness. He climbed out of the bed and crouched, his hands searching for the brooch under the feather mattress; then his hand fumbled hot metal and extracted the brooch. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he started working on the lock of his shackles.

He smiled brightly as the lock clicked and the shackles tumbled to the bed. His eyes full of languish, he slid Marian's brooch into the pocket of his trousers, thinking that it might be useful later. He straightened his spine and stretched his arms, waking his rigid and stiffed muscles.

His eyes darted between the entrance to his tent and Roger's body on the floor, the quiet voice in the back of his head reminding him of the urgent nature of his mission. Having no time to look for his own scimitar and his bow, he grabbed Roger de Tosny's broadsword and put two daggers by his jeweled belt, an object of startling beauty, set with unusual resplendent gems; the belt was King Richard's last gift to him on his wedding to Melisende.

Robin walked on tiptoes to the back of the tent and bent down to slice rough material with the sword, cutting a small hole in the wall of the tent. He sneaked there and stormed out, then crouched and started crawling on his belly over the hot sand. His eyes scanned scrupulously the area head, inventing the best and the shortest escape route. Often, he let himself glance behind from time to time. It seemed that he had fled unnoticed, and as he was waiting for the king's guards to pass, Robin raised his eyes to Heaven, feeling uncharacteristically fierce joy his freedom conveyed.

Suddenly, Robin felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. Fear slashing through him, he turned his head and saw Carter's grinning face. Edmund's serious face looked impassive as he stared at Robin. He blinked his eyes rapidly, for the vision of the two familiar faces didn't vanish, meaning that he had been discovered and would probably be brought back to his tent.

"Oh," Robin breathed, his mouth flinging open, a chill running down his back.

Carter grinned. "Yeah, Robin Hood can escape any trap, cannot he?"

"Well, I suppose so," Robin replied in a quiet tone.

"Are you alright?" Edmund asked Robin with concern.

Robin looked like a frightened child. "Fine. What now?"

Carter chuckled. "And now we have the king to save."

Robin frowned. "Where is the king?"

Edmund sniffed and wiped away beads of sweat with his fingers. "King Richard is a desperate man. He has gone in the desert to meet with Saladin and re-negotiate the peace treaty."

Robin's expression changed into horror, the bloody pictures of Richard's murder creeping into his mind. "It is the Sherriff's plot. He is going to kill Richard."

"And we will save the king and our friends," Carter said with a reassuring smile.

Robin recovered his confidence. "Yes, we will rescue them."

Carter handed Robin his scimitar and bow, with a full quiver of arrows. "For you, my friend."

Robin smiled gratefully. "Thank you."

Robin, Carter, and Edmund crawled towards the border of the camp, further away from Robin's tent, staying flat on the sand at the moments when as Crusaders walked back and forth. They had an important mission ahead – to save the king, England, and the innocent people.

They managed to leave the camp undetected. As Robin noticed several horses waiting for them in the back of the camp, he realized that Carter and Edmund had planned to free him in advance, going against the king's order and, thus, believing Robin. Warmth revived in the depths of his heart at the thought that not everyone had considered him a traitor, despite the king's words. Yet, the pleasant sensation was supplanted by a stab of pain which brought him back to his senses and reminded him that Richard was the main reason of the troubles which had befallen his friends.

§§§

The innocent traitors were melting under the blazing sun. They were sweaty and thirsty, and their skin was afire, hotter than the sand and the rocks; each of them could feel stream of perspiration running down a neck and trickling in the groove of a spine. They didn't fall unconscious yet, trying to concentrate and think, but the heat had already taken its toll on them: their vision was blurred, their heads spinning, their mouths dry. Every minute seemed eternity as they waited for the death to come.

"I am going to have a heart attack," Isabella of Gisborne complained.

Roger de Lacy smirked. "A heatstroke," he corrected.

Isabella lowered her chin. "It doesn't matter. They are the same sort of thing."

"Hmm," de Lacy snorted. "I can imagine how bad you feel in the desert after Prince John's court."

"What?"

"What are you doing here?" de Lacy asked. As they were tied to the same pole, they heard each other rather well, while others had to strain their ears to overhear their conversation.

"The sheriff kidnapped me," Isabella murmured.

"I think that you needed to come here," de Lacy accused.

"You think that I am out of my mind, sire?" Isabella defended herself.

"You are Prince John's whore. He sent you here." De Lacy didn't care that he was abominably rude.

"You are a cad, Monsieur de Lacy." Isabella shuddered; then she let out a quiet laugh trying to relax.

Marian and Much were tied up to the same pole, and each of them felt uncomfortable not only due to the heat. Knowing how deeply hurt Robin was due to her betrayal, Much loathed Marian for her decision to break her betrothal to Robin and marry Guy of Gisborne. Marian felt like a cat in a strange garret because she knew that all the former outlaws and particularly Much fiercely disapproved of her marriage to Guy, questioning her loyalty to Robin Hood's cause.

"Much," Marian called him.

"What?" Much reacted, lowering his chin down and shutting his eyes.

"How has Robin been doing here?" she asked, feeling a tiny hammer on her heart.

Much gaped at her question. "Robin is alright, not in the desert as we are."

"I mean Robin's marriage," she began bravely.

Much was amazed that she had learnt about that. "Robin is a lucky man. Lady Melisende is King Richard's cousin. She is beautiful, clever, and kind. I like and respect her."

Marian was aware of a horrible stab of jealousy in her proud heart. "I am glad."

"This is the best what he could have after your betrayal," Much said almost scornfully.

"Much, I didn't want… to hurt Robin. I thought that it would be for the better…" Marian's voice was hoarse with emotion and she almost choked over the last words.

"It is in the past," Much said, a little chill of formality in his voice. "Robin likes his wife. She likes him. They are a stunning couple. You should forget about him."

"I wish Robin only all the best," Marian said unsteadily.

Much muttered something, making Marian wince. She closed her eyes as the bright sunlight blinded her and aggravated the throbbing in her head. It was considerate enough of Much to answer to her questions about Robin; it was a kind thing, and might even be a sign that Much, her childhood friend, still had some softness for her in his heart. She wished Much to understand her and be friends again, but she doubted that the man would ever be able to overcome resentment he felt for her.

Allan was taking deep and shallow breathes with his mouth. "We are gonna be burnt here alive."

Will sighed. "I thought that Robin would come."

Djaq closed her eyes, her head spinning. "If he didn't find us, then it means that he couldn't escape."

"Robin would have never abandoned us," Little John agreed.

"I am bathing in sweat. This is terrible," Isabella lamented.

"It may be worse," Djaq added. "This is the expense of being in the Holy Land."

"King Richard might be already dead," Allan said.

"Damn the Sheriff! May he go to hell," Roger de Lacy cursed.

"I believe that Robin will save us," Marian said.

"I would love to think so, but I don't hope for that," de Lacy opined.

"Don't lose hope," Marian prompted. "Something good will come out of this."

Allan, Will, Djaq, Isabella, and Marian were looking in a distance, their eyes wrinkled to slits against the severity of the sun. Everyone was about to surrender to the darkness of abysmal despair. Much started sobbing quietly, and no one reproached him for his lack of self-control. They were losing hope.

"Much... don't cry," Marian urged.

"I am not… crying…" Much muttered.

"He is not crying. He is laughing on the wrong side of his face," the voice came behind them.

"Carter!" Much cried out in joy.

Everyone laughed as a feeling of relief overcame them, hope reviving in their hearts.

Carter was approaching them, with Edmund and Robin going behind. They had several horses, with full water flasks hanging from the saddles. Robin and Edmund also carried water flasks.

"We thought you had left us!" Much reproached.

Carter cut Little John's ropes. "Sorry. Out here you can lose your head." He handed a knife to John and walked round to Allan. "It is very hot today."

"I was a little… tied up myself," Robin offered calmly as he cut Much's ropes, staring incredulously at Marian and not comprehending how she had ended up in the desert with his friends.

"But you fled," Much finished.

"I did, but it wasn't very easy," Robin replied.

"Yeah, we are free," Allan said happily.

Robin bowed to Marian, deeply and elegantly. "How fortuitous to find you here, Lady Gisborne! I trust you are well even after having a little rendezvous with the sun in the desert," he said in a mocking lilt, punctuating the comment with a smug smile, teasing imps dancing in his pale blue eyes.

Marian looked distressed for a moment, but then she seemed to swallow her emotions, and blankness settled over her face. Robin, her Robin, whom she had rejected a year ago to marry Guy, stood in front of her, grinning at her and mocking her. They met in the most unexpected circumstances she could have imagined – in the Holy Land, among the sandy dunes, under the blazing sun, when he saved her life from Vaisey. Now everything was different: Robin was not only her former betrothed, whose heart she had wounded with her rejection, but also a married man, not an outlaw anymore but the king's loyal servant.

With a mixture of pain and curiosity, Marian allowed her eyes to dwell once more upon the handsome face of her former twice betrothed. At first glance, Robin seemed to have recovered from her betrayal, for he was as handsome, dashing, arrogant, and smug as he had always been. He looked quite unusual in a white Crusader tunic, his usually pale skin exhibiting a slight tan; she also noticed that his sandy-colored hair turned a shade lighter than it was a year ago.

Yet, Marian knew that Robin was greatly affected by their meeting. She knew from the tightening of his jaw how much he was astounded and emotionally moved to see her after a long separation. She closed her eyes for an instant and drew a deep breath, listening to her racing heart and letting herself regain her composure. She looked at him again, and a wild thrill of emotions, made up of fear and anxiety as much as longing and joy, surged through her at the realization that she still had power over him.

Marian held Robin's gaze, but her knees were trembling. "I am well, thanks to you and your friends. I owe you my life, Lord Huntingdon," she said formally.

Robin let out a light, cocky smile, not an all-out teeth-showing smile, but a smile nonetheless. "I have to say that it is not the best idea for a married lady to travel to the Holy Land and find herself tied up in the desert." His voice sounded chilly.

Marian gave Robin a hard glare; she was angry and wished only to wipe away that holier-than-thou smile from his face. "It is not what I wanted to do," she said quietly. "It is what I was forced to do."

Robin looked interested. "What happened?"

"I tried to kill the sheriff in order to stop him before he could make a new regicide attempt," Marian informed, raising her chin proudly high.

"Well, sometimes ladies cannot help but have adventures they don't need to have, with or without realization of consequences." Robin shrugged. "That's why I shouldn't be astonished, but I am."

"This teasing of yours matters very little, Lord Huntingdon," Marian countered.

Robin beamed his heart-winning smile that would have warmed Marian's heart if there was no petrified coldness in his eyes. "It is common sense, not teasing. I know that you possess a great strength of will, but I must say that I have never thought you can be foolhardy and stupid enough to embark on a mission that was almost certainly doomed to failure from the beginning. Thank Heaven there has been still time to save your life." Then, not wasting time, he went to de Lacy.

Insulted by Robin's comments, Marian looked at his back with the sickening feeling that Robin was laughing at her abilities to kill a man and save the king. Robin appeared to be enjoying himself as he spoke to her. She hated him at that moment, and yet she couldn't deny that there was truth in his words; she had already doubted that her decision to kill the sheriff was the smartest one in her life.

"We found Robin in the outskirts of the camp," Edmund said as he finished untying Will and Djaq, who smiled gratefully at him. "We planned to release him, but he was faster and freed himself."

"Of course, he was faster because he is Robin!" Much praised his most beloved friend.

"Much! Please!" Robin flashed a bright smile. He cut de Lacy's ropes and then freed Isabella. "Yeah, there are a lot of interesting things in my head."

"Robin, your head is precious," Roger de Lacy said with a rich chuckle. He scooped Robin into his arms. "Thank you, my friend. You saved our lives."

"Welcome, friend," Robin said affectionately, patting de Lacy's back.

De Lacy laughed. "Robin, Edmund, Carter, have I ever told you how much I love all of you?"

"Roger, you rarely speak about love," Carter pointed out.

Edmund grinned at de Lacy's embarrassment. "Well, Roger is losing his wits and charms after so many long years spent in the Holy Land."

Robin's face changed into amazement at the sight of de Lacy tying up Isabella's wrists. "Roger, why are you so discourteous with this lady?"

"I have no reason to trust Lady Isabella of Gisborne," de Lacy commented dryly. "I will explain everything in a minute."

Robin felt the ground shaking under his feet. He was amazed, his eyes widened. He was dumbfounded how Marian had managed to come to Acre, thinking that Gisborne must have lost his mind if he had taken his wife with him, even if she had tried to kill Vaisey. But the fact that Isabella of Gisborne had also been in the desert confused him even more. He couldn't know that Isabella had arrived in Nottingham after his departure to Acre.

Robin let out a small smile. "Well, we have many surprises today."

Isabella gave Robin a dazzling smile. "You have changed, Robin of Locksley."

Isabella of Gisborne licked her lips. She had extremely improper thoughts about Robin of Locksley. Her lips parted, her body nearly swaying towards Robin's lithe form a little at the sight of his charming smile and his sparkling blue eyes. She was stunned that Robin was a handsome man who made her able to suddenly fall into a pleasurable fit of passion and desire; nobody, not even Prince John, had ever affected her so much. She could almost imagine Robin's slender body naked in a bed, skin smooth over hard muscles, moonlight streaming into the room. She wished to feel how she would run her fingers over his hot skin, tracing the perfect muscles of his back and shoulders. She wanted Robin.

"And so have you, Lady Isabella of Gisborne." Robin took in her well-curved figure and her lovely facial features, thinking that she was a beautiful woman, yet sly and definitely not innocent.

"Not disappointed to meet me, Lord Huntingdon?" Isabella stared into Robin's blue eyes. Her gaze slid down his face to the line of his mouth and then back to his eyes.

The young captain laughed lightly. "Dangerous things, the desert spells. They may render the victims completely unable to feel anything, especially bitterness and disappointment."

"I am really honored to be saved by you, Huntingdon. So few people can stand the desert spells." Isabella's voice was ragged, as if she were whispering endearments into her lover's ear.

"Your speech is too flattering, my lady," Robin threw over his shoulder. "Well, frankly speaking, I am truly amazed to find Guy of Gisborne's wife and his sister in the Holy Land and all the more in the desert." He smiled. "Yeah, this is incredible!"

Marian strode forward, towards Robin. "As I have just said, I tried to kill the sheriff, and Lady Isabella was an unfortunate witness of that. Therefore, Vaisey took us hostage in Nottingham."

"A lifetime of no adventure is boring, and now everything is rolled into a couple of hours," Robin said teasingly, his features unreadable, but his gaze proving that he had no more questions.

"There are always adventures everywhere. The only question in life is whether or not you are going to answer a hearty yes to a new adventure," de Lacy spoke as he passed Marian and Robin, paused next to Robin, then winked at him.

Robin winked back. "Life itself is an adventure."

Marian's brow twitched in annoyance. "I find nothing amusing in a near-death adventure in the desert."

Robin laughed, his blue eyes twinkling. "You shouldn't think so! If you die in your warm bed, like a proper lady, you will miss all the fun. Dying tied up to the poles is not very convenient, but an inconvenience is rightly considered a sort of fun. To die in the desert is an awfully big adventure."

Marian smiled at him. "Well, I am not astonished to hear that, Lord Robin. After all, intolerable and mischievous men are always courting danger."

"Yeah, you are generous with your compliments, Lady Marian." Robin grinned wickedly; he decided to address to her in the same infuriatingly formal manner, teasing her with her own formality. "Oh, I know, I am intolerable! What a nasty, disturbing, and obnoxious thing I am!"

Marian looked at Robin, shaking her head, a small smile on her lips. Robin was absolutely intolerable and simultaneously devilishly charming when he was shooting his witty barbs here and there, flashing his cheeky and impish grins. There was sweetly dangerous venom in his hot blood, and his sarcastic expressions, spoken in a bold and relaxed manner, could have burned inside and out anyone. His dry humor was annoying and simultaneously entertaining, and his sharp, witty comments could have crawled under anyone's skin.

His arrogance and self-assurance were on the verge of complacency. His compassionate and altruistic nature was a real treasure, while his ability to give and place the interests of England, the king, his friends, and everyone else above his own deals and even his life seemed unlimited. All these features were part of his devilish charm that swept so many women off their feet. Robin was a fool, but he was an irresistible fool. Robin was the most infuriating, the most noble-hearted, and the most irresistible man Marian had ever met in her life. This man was unique – he was just Robin.

Marian knew that Robin was different from Guy. While she always felt thrill of danger in her relationship with Guy, she often missed the lightness and safety which were in the air around Robin. She was greatly attracted to Guy's dark handsomeness and his lethal charms, but Guy lacked Robin's light, captivating charm and she missed that charm in everyday life, presently enjoying Robin's cheeky smiles and manners. She missed Robin's sense of wit, which was rarely a part of her conversations with Guy. She was very happy to see Robin again.

Carter burst into laughter. "When I joined the king's private guard, I heard that not only Saracens can kill a man. Everyone claimed that Captain Locksley may shoot a witty arrow at anyone, doing it cleanly, through the heart, giving a victim an immediate death." He smiled. "But if Captain Locksley wants mischief, he may choose to massacre anyone with his witty arrows, prolonging sufferings."

Marian smiled slightly. "His tongue is very poisonous."

"Sweet and poisonous at the same time," Robin remarked, grinning sheepishly.

"Robin is an outrageously bold man," Djaq said adoringly. Will, who stood beside Djaq, also smiled.

"His wittiness is as sharp as a sword," Edmund remarked with a smile.

Isabella eyed Robin, and her smile grew wider; she was utterly charmed. "But there must be someone whom Huntingdon can never shoot with his sarcastic arrows." She had already seen the impudent and cheeky look on his face a long time go – on the face of the small boy whom she remembered very well since childhood. She was still stunned that little Robin could have shape-shifted from a proper and humble boy into a merry and mischievous demon on a moment's notice.

Carter chuckled. "Robin mocks even King Richard. Robin and Robert de Beaumont are the only two men who dare taunt and tease the king, of course, only if our liege is in a good mood."

De Lacy tightened the ropes on Isabella's wrists. "I am a bold man, but I fear to tease our King." His gaze slid to Isabella. "Don't be offended, Lady Isabella. You came here for an unknown reason, and you got what you deserved – an exciting adventure under the hot sun."

"Please release me, Lord de Lacy," Isabella begged, her lips lengthening into a smile. With her hands bound behind her back, she couldn't reach her captor, but she could use her charms on him.

"I am sorry, my lady, but I cannot grant your wish," de Lacy answered in a matter-of-fact sort of way. He ran his eyes over his friends, then spoke to explain his position. "Lady Isabella is Prince John's mistress. She can also be his spy. Who knows why she came here and what game she is playing?"

"Prince John's mistress?" Marian gasped for air.

"Yes, she seems to be," de Lacy confirmed.

"You are insane! It is the sun!" Isabella protested. "I was kidnapped by the Sheriff!"

"Quiet, my lady." De Lacy shook Guy's sister slightly. "Your pleas will change nothing."

Everyone drank water which the Crusaders brought.

Carter approached them. "We have horses. We have weapons."

"And we have King Richard to save." Robin clapped Carter's shoulder.

"Hurry up," Edmund prompted.

"Wait!" Much cried out. "Come on. We are Robin Hood."

"We are Robin Hood," Little John said proudly.

"What?" A deep frown creased Isabella's forehead.

De Lacy giggled. "Good idea! I like it!"

Little John drank water. "Just say it. Everybody say it." He pointed at Carter, Marian, Isabella, and de Lacy. "We... are Robin Hood."

"We are Robin Hood!" they all proclaimed together.

Marian chuckled at their statement. Isabella smiled wryly, her heart beating faster at the sight of Robin's smile. Carter, Edmund, and Roger laughed aloud. Robin chuckled, as always looking proud and confident. They were happy and relieved that they survived.

§§§

King Richard watched Robin fighting with the so-called Saladin. Richard came to the meeting place with Saladin in time, but his horse was stopped by Robin of Locksley, Carter of Stretton, Edmund of Cranfield, Roger de Lacy, and the other people whom he had sentenced to death on the same morning, thinking that they were Robin's accomplices. There were also two ladies with them, whom the king had never seen before; he guessed that Lady Marian of Knighton was Gisborne's wife and was stunned to learn that Isabella of Gisborne was Guy's sister.

Richard and the others watched Robin lunging and parrying the assassin's blows. Robin swung his scimitar at his opponent's chest, and Karim barely managed to twist out of the way. Karim was an excellent swordsman, but Robin was more deadly with a sword. Yet, Karim was seething with anger, his fury making him more violent in a fierce fight. Robin had to use many sophisticated tricking blows to mislead and outwit his enemy.

"Look, mates, it is such a wonderful sword dance," Allan commented joyfully, watching in fascination the picture of Robin's darkly beautiful fight with the Saracen.

"A sword dance, Allan?" Marian repeated. "You call it a sword dance?" She frowned, irritated by Allan's lightheartedness. "And what if Robin is skewered during this dance?"

"Maz, I meant nothing wrong. I want Robin to win, and I know he will win," Allan hurried to explain. "I only wanted to say that their fight is beautiful."

"When two highly skilled swordsmen meet on the battlefield, the fight is a gorgeous spectacle," King Richard agreed, his eyes taking in the scene of the ongoing fight. "It is not easy to develop outstanding swordsmanship. Sword fight is a beautiful art, especially if a swordsman uses Robin's unique fighting style." He chuckled. "Watching such a performance is a great pleasure for a warrior."

The Saracen lunged at Robin with an overhead blow, and the young captain easily parried it, immediately spinning around and making a new assault on his enemy. They exchanged a pair of diagonal blows and then circled each other, with Robin swinging his scimitar in an upward arc.

Carter laughed. "Only bad dancers are skewered and only if they make a mistake."

"But everyone can make a mistake," Edmund interposed.

"Robin is not an exception," the king whispered, his heart pounding in his chest and his breathing quickening. "Robin has a deadly hand with a sword, especially with a scimitar. Yet, he is not the best fighter with a sword, but definitely one of the best we have ever seen."

At the same time, the conspirators – Sheriff Vaisey, Guy of Gisborne, James of Lambton, Archer, Nasir, and two Saracen assassins – were hiding behind the sandy hills. They lay on the ground, their chests pressed to the burning sand. As if they were mesmerized, they watched Robin Hood fighting with Karim, like King Richard and his companions.

"Damn King Richard! Damn Robin Hood! Damn these Crusaders to hell!" Vaisey shot a long sequence of unintelligible curses. He glared at James. "James, how did Hood come here? The king was supposed to be alone! You told us that the king didn't place him in the desert together with the others, but you assured us that he was detained and guarded in the king's camp."

James shrugged helplessly. "I don't know," he hissed through clenched teeth. "Locksley always does something incredible. I have always despised him, but I cannot deny that he is a talented man."

"It is taking too much time!" Sheriff Vaisey's shrilling voice coursed through the air. He swore numerous oaths. "Do something, you idiots!"

Archer stared at Robin, watching Robin's magic swirls and spins in awe. "Robin Hood looks younger than his real age. It is difficult to imagine that this young man is a Crusader hero."

"Captain Beaumont and Captain Lacy are also very young," Nasir broke in. "Oh, Allah! I hate the Crusaders! I hate Melek-Ric!" He clenched his fists. "Karim must kill Captain Locksley."

"I doubt that it will happen," Archer opined. Then he let forth a veritable torrent of words, gesturing to Robin with jerky motions. "This Karim is a worse swordsman than Huntingdon."

Vaisey sneered. "And you are such a great expert in exotic weapons and fighting, right, Archy?"

"Lord Vaisey, I warned you in polite tones that I wouldn't tolerate insults." Archer shifted his eyes from the sheriff to Robin, his grin fading at once.

Vaisey smiled. "You are a spirited boy, Archy." His gaze went to Guy, his eyes narrowing. "Gizzy, my boy, you are a more obedient boy than Archy is and can ever be?"

"I am at your side," Guy whispered, anger simmering in his blood.

"Lord Vaisey, I can tolerate you less and less with every minute," Archer confessed. He gave Guy a long glance, astonished that the elder man willingly endured so much humiliation.

"Archy, you know I like rebellious spirits, like yours and Robin Hood's," Vaisey said, smacking his lips. He surveyed Archer. "You are as obnoxious and dryly humorous as Hood." He looked into right into Archer's eyes. "And you have Hood's eyes of a rare color – the pale blue eyes."

Guy glanced at Archer. Archer flashed the same cheeky smiles as Robin did; Archer's eyes were of the same color as Hood's. Guy shook his head, then looked away.

Archer stiffened. "A simple coincidence."

"Naturally," Vaisey said thoughtfully.

The sheriff drew a wheezing breath; his face reminded of a furious ugly grimace of a lunatic. "I want King Richard dead! I want Robin Hood dead!" He slammed his fist into the sand. "I want the king and Hood both dead today. If they died on the same day, it would be God's gift."

Archer and Guy said nothing. They shared brief, uneasily glances, for a moment letting the guard of their emotions down and finding the same incomprehension of the sheriff's evilness in each other's eyes. Then Archer turned away, grinning at Guy, while Guy stiffened. They watched Robin lunging at the assassin and almost stabbing the man into his gut, but Karim was lucky and dodged from the blow.

Guy of Gisborne rubbed the sweat from his brow with his ungloved hands; then he threw his black gloves on the sand in disgust. Under the blazing sun, he was boiling alive in his black leather attire, swearing oaths that he didn't change his clothes for a simple long tunic made out of light silk or linen, even if in Arabic fashion. He felt his every muscle flexed, his skin radiated heat. The heat in his body was growing rougher and more irritating, and he envied Archer who was dressed in a light green silk tunic, the color of his clothes reflecting the heat rather than drawing it like a magnet.

Guy was struggling with conflicting feelings he had for Robin Hood. He wanted Robin to be killed by Karim, but at the same time he also wished Robin to overpower his rival. Disturbed by the confusing thoughts, he clasped his hands together on the sand. He shut his eyes tightly, sighing heavily, then opened them, looking in a distance and searching for a small sign of who would win the fight, but the outcome was not clear yet, though he thought that Robin would eventually prevail.

Archer felt a flurry of emotions sweeping through him. As he saw Robin of Locksley, his legendary secret half-brother fighting with Karim in the desert, Archer realized that the sheriff's plot against Robin had been disclosed, and he was strangely pleased with that. Also, his mind was occupied with the fates of Marian and Isabella, whom he saw in the company of the Crusaders. Unlike Guy, he was sure that Vaisey would do something bad to the ladies. As Marian and Isabella were with Robin, he thought that the women escaped and went to the king's camp. Now he was thinking more about the salvation of Marian and Isabella and even Robin's salvation.

The fight continued. Both Robin and Karim were great swordsmen, and neither of them was going to let his rival overpower the other. Karim was obviously getting angrier, and he gave an inhuman war cry, launching a new violent attack on Robin. Robin parried the blow, laughing and then advancing forward. Both men were fighting as if they were possessed by demons.

King Richard was very worried about Robin. He publicly disgraced Robin and even told the poor man that the deaths of his friends would be the punishment for Robin's alleged treason. He was too cruel to Robin, but at least he didn't order Robin's execution. The overmastering feeling of tart guilt that he caused so much pain to Robin and his other loyal subjects was corroding his heart.

The king felt his heart beating faster at the sight of Robin's blow blocked by Karim's sword and then the picture of Karim grabbing Robin's sword arm, turning the young captain to face him and finally swinging overhand at him. He didn't want Robin to be hurt or killed.

Robin fell on his back not to be sliced by his enemy's scimitar; he grabbed Karim's sword arm with his free arm, pulling the assassin down and then swiftly rolling Karim over. Robin jumped back as his enemy swung at him an overhead blow, then blocked it with both hands. Suddenly, Karim kicked Robin in his stomach, knocking him onto his back; then Robin punched his rival into his face.

The king thought that it was high time to help Robin, his blood boiling with rage and lust for the battle. "We have seen enough," he said. "He needs us."

They got to their feet and rushed to the horses. Richard mounted his white stallion and spurred it in its both flanks. Marian sat on the horse behind Much, while Isabella was ahead Roger de Lacy who took care of watching his prisoner attentively. Others also mounted their horses. They climbed the sandy hill and rode towards Robin, with King Richard heading the party and others following him.

"Robin, forgive me," Richard stated genuinely as he reached Robin. He struggled to master the chaotic emotions of guilt and anger that were roiling in his heart.

Robin nodded numbly, not looking at the king. "I already have."

Despite the heat, a slight wind had arisen and was sending the louring clouds scudding across the sky from the east. Robin gave another glance at the sky, the apprehension about the sandstorm creeping into his mind, but he swiftly put the thought aside.

"I was wrong. I should have never doubted you," the king added remorsefully.

"The sheriff is a cunning and dangerous man," Robin said flatly, his eyes focused on the sheriff, Guy, and other men mounting their horses. "You believed these wretched lies because you were given the written proof of my alleged guilt, though a fake one and brought by a fake messenger."

The king smiled, somewhat relieved. "We will talk later." His measured de Lacy with a look of repentance. "Roger, I am sorry."

"Forgotten and forgiven," de Lacy returned with a smile.

"Let's finish this now," Robin offered.

Carter almost reached Robin's horse, tightening his reins to pause. "Are you sure, Robin?"

"The sheriff crossed the line. He must be stopped," Robin snapped, his voice tight with anger.

The king nodded casually. "These traitors must pay for their crimes."

Roger de Lacy rode past with a slack rein. "I don't think that we should pursue them now."

"Why?" the king asked.

De Lacy glanced forebodingly at his liege and at Robin. "I just don't like it."

"Don't exaggerate," the king reproached.

"After them!" Robin cried out, lust for fight simmering in his overheated blood.

Robin fiercely spurred his horse to top speed and rode away with sand flying, leaving everyone far behind. King Richard did the same and followed Robin, his stallion galloping across the sandy dunes. Carter, Edmund, and the others set their horses at the same maddening speed. They rode with careless grace towards the ghost town of Imuiz, chasing after the sheriff's black figure, the slight breeze ruffling their hair, the sound of thundering hooves filling the hot air.

The sheriff, Nasir, Karim, Guy, Archer, and James galloped through a fallen archway into the deserted town. They passed the entrance square, filled with broken carts, wagons litter, and a half ring of sandbags, all the traces of the last defense of the former Saracen village. Vaisey pulled the reins and stopped in the middle of the square, glancing between Guy and Archer and then shifting his eyes to Nasir and Karim.

"Nasir, are our assassins already here?" the sheriff questioned imperturbably.

Nasir smiled craftily. "We have more than twenty assassins here. They are hiding in the town."

Vaisey smiled nastily. "La di da di da! I like this! This is great!"

"Hood is with the king," Guy intervened.

"Well, in this case we may kill Robin Hood, too." The sheriff laughed floutingly.

"So many assassins?" Archer cringed at the thought what could happen in Imuiz.

"When you have Robin Hood near King Richard, you have to be prepared for everything." The sheriff's jeweled tooth glistered in the rays of the relentless sun. "See what I am doing and learn, boys."

"Marian and Isabella are with the king and Hood," Guy said anxiously. "How did they get there?"

"Gisborne, now we must get rid of the king!" Vaisey bawled out. "Your lepers may wait!"

"But… my lord…" Guy stammered.

The sheriff rode to Guy and grabbed the collar of Guy's jacket. "Oh, look, Gisborne! You are growing meek again!" he shrieked. "Gizzy, take a hold of yourself! Remember what I taught you! Be a man, not a blithering and weak oaf whom I barely tolerate! Your sword must always be in blood! A man kills, never forgives and never whimpers. You must kill to prove yourself as a strong man!"

Looking into the sheriff's blazing eyes, full of hatred and malice, Guy was trembling all over. "My lord, I am a man. I killed many people–"

"Gisborne, I have already said many times that lepers are not important when you have power. Don't fail me today," the sheriff supplied crossly. "Kill the king and live in paradise with me."

Guy hung his head. "Yes, my lord."

"It is not too late! We can kill the king here!" the sheriff promulgated. "Karim and Nasir, over there! Gisborne, with me! Archer, over that building!"

Nasir dismounted with his crossbow and hid himself behind an overturned wagon. The sheriff, James, and Gisborne galloped off down a street. With a distressed look on his face, his mind reeling, Archer paused at the corner of the square, looking in a distance, where Vaisey and Guy men had gone; then he headed in the opposite direction.

King Richard and Carter rode off after the sheriff down the street, with Robin following them. Robin stopped his horse and dismounted, followed by Edmund and Roger de Lacy, with Isabella sitting ahead in the saddle. As Much crossed the square, Nasir nocked an arrow from crossbow, which struck the chest of the horse, causing Much and Marian go down with the horse. In an angry outburst of emotion, Much roared and cursed violently, his eyes scanning the area in an attempt to find a culprit. Robin helped Marian get up. Then Little John, Will, Djaq, and Allan arrived at the same square, everyone dismounting and preparing their weapons to defend themselves and the king.

"It looks like a trap," Robin gave his verdict. He eyed Marian and Much. "Are you both alright?"

"Yes," Much agreed. "Where is King Richard?"

Robin looked perturbed, the sunlight softening his hard face into thoughtfulness. "The king outpaced me somewhere near Imuiz. I fear he has gone after the sheriff."

"It is hazardous," Marian stated.

Robin gave a nod. "Richard always rules from front rows."

Little John shook his head. "This I don't like."

"And neither do I," de Lacy said.

"What will we do?" Edmund questioned, looking between Robin and Roger.

Robin looked exasperated. "I fear there are many Saracens hiding here." His voice was grave. "We must find the King. He should leave this place, and someone will accompany him back to the camp."

"Let's do this," Edmund agreed. "The king must leave."

Robin's eyes flickered between Marian and Isabella. "John, please take the ladies and go into one of the deserted buildings for their safety. Stay there and wait for someone to come."

"Since then did you begin to preach caution, Robin?" Marian inquired with a laugh.

"I have done that a long time ago, Marian, but I expected you to dismiss it," Robin responded, unable to conceal the unspoken accusation and condemnation from his tone. "If I do something risky or reckless, it doesn't mean I don't know what I am doing."

"What do you mean?" John asked.

"He always has another half a plan he can use if first half a plan fails," Much said with a laugh.

Robin grinned. "Oh, well, you are right."

"Whatever you think or do, Robin, you have no right to teach me," Marian shot back, insulted. "I won't take your orders. I am not your soldier. You won't order me what to do and where to go."

All the others were silent, waiting for Robin's command.

"Maz, I think Robin is right," Allan joined the discussion.

Robin smiled at Allan, then turned his head and looked fixedly at Marian. "There can be only one commander in a battle, and it is not you, Marian," he responded strictly, his eyes flying to Little John. "John, they are coming with you. Take first right after the square; you will find where to hide." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "Much, you are staying with me. Roger, Allan, and Edmund, go down the street where the king went. Djaq and Will, turn first left after the square."

They split up in the town, hurrying to find King Richard and Carter. The side streets were narrow, framed by two-storied, light-colored Arabic houses with ornamented facades, which were a good hiding place for enemies. They walked through the narrow streets, plagued by flies buzzing and crawling over their faces. Vaisey, Gisborne, and James also wandered in the huge labyrinth of sandstone buildings. The battle of life and death was about to begin, and there was no way back.

* * *

><p><em>I hope you truly enjoyed this chapter and the plot.<em>

_At first, I want to apologize for a delay in updating this story. Life was too hectic in the past several weeks, and I had little time to sleep. I promise that I would try to upload chapter 7 sooner._

_The sheriff's plan to trap Robin and his friends turns out to be successful. As King Richard gets the fake letters, Robin is exposed as a traitor, for the king has the written proof of Robin's alleged treason. Of course, Robin's loyalty to the king is put under a severe test; something may change between them. _

_Taking into account Robin's blood relationship with Richard, I decided that Richard would not take Robin into the desert to die with his friends. The historical King Richard was a vengeful and temperamental man, but I can hardly believe that he can order to execute Robin, knowing that Queen Eleanor would never forgive him for killing Robin. That's why Robin is only detained while others have to pay a high price for Robin's supposed treason; the king punishes him by executing his friends, Robin's supposed accomplices, and indirectly casting the blame on Robin's shoulders. _

_But Robin escapes from the Crusaders' camp, together with Carter and Edmund. They save the others from death in the desert and then ride to Imuiz, chasing after the sheriff, Guy, Archer, and James. Some things are similar to what happened on the show in S2E13, but the framework for the regicide attempt is different. _

_Now a warning! In the next chapter, Robin, Guy, and Richard face each other during the battle in Imuiz and the great drama unfolds. Something is going to happen in the next chapter – something serious and life-changing, head-spinning and dramatic. There is bloodshed and a character's death._

_I know that both Guy fans and Robin fans read this story. The triangle Robin/King Richard/Guy will be resolved in the next three chapters, so it will be a hot and interesting time. I also want to inform all fans of Lady Megan Bennet that Meg will appear in chapter 13 of this part of the story; she will also be with the readers in part 3 of Quintessence when King Richard is held captive by Leopold of Austria. _

**_So what do you think? Reviews are always appreciated. As these chapters about regicide were especially difficult for me to write, I kindly ask you to review them. Thank you._**

_If you find any typos and/or mistakes here, please let me know about them in a private message. _

_Thank you for reading this chapter. Have a good weekend._

_Yours faithfully, Penelope Clemence_


	8. Chapter 7 A Tragedy in the Courtyard

**Chapter 7**

**A Tragedy in the Courtyard**

Robin and Much wandered through a labyrinth of narrow alleys, trying to stay near the walls in order to remain undetected by Vaisey and the assassins. Robin ordered Much to stay at his side because he was accustomed to work with his former manservant as a team, like it was during their first five years of fighting in the Holy Land; Much usually protected Robin from the back.

"I don't see King Richard," Robin said, coughing nervously.

Much looked around, weary of heat and worry. "Our king must be suffering from a heatstroke! What has he done today? At first, he claims that we are traitors. Then he goes into the desert, alone and unprotected. And now he disappears here, trying to find the sheriff. And what should we do now?"

"Much, stop lamenting and concentrate. You must be attentive."

Suddenly, they heard Arabic voices somewhere nearby. Robin abruptly shoved Much in a niche between two buildings, and then he instinctively embraced Much, shielding him from their enemies. As they were so close to each other, Robin heard Much's heart beating so loud that it seemed to drown out all other sounds. Straining his ears, Robin heard footsteps approaching the niche where they were hiding, and then four Saracens passed by them.

"And what?" Much stared at Robin, waiting for a command.

Robin grinned. "We fight and kill them."

Robin stepped on the road and whistled to attract attention of the assassins. Grinning impudently at the Saracens, he stared at their dark-skinned faces, his eyes registering their volatile, hateful glances. His expression blank, his lips thinned into a straight line, Robin unsheathed his scimitar before three assassins attacked him, and charged into the battle. Another Saracen gave a war cry and attacked Much, who was barely able to draw his broadsword in time and deflect a blow.

Robin lunged at the first assassin, then made a circular blow and swung his sword in an overhead blow, leading to a series of smooth, elegant blows and finishing with one quick spin, which took down two assassins. His mind began to blur as the undercurrent darkness resurrected in him. He was in a kind of dark trance, his mind highly concentrated on the fight, attacking his opponents with specific tricking blows and unusual combinations.

Much quickly skewed one of the assassins and then stood, watching Robin fight with Saracens. His heart pounding hard in his chest, he watched Robin fighting with a dark beauty and undeniable grace, as if he were mesmerized. He had envied Robin's outstanding fighting skills until he had seen in the Holy Land what Robin, seized with bloodlust, could do to his enemies. Much loved Robin wholeheartedly, but at times he was afraid of the inner darkness Robin was trying to hide in his heart.

Robin swung his scimitar in a graceful arc. In a heartbeat, the Saracen lay dead on the sand. Looking at him, Robin swiped his sword down at the assassin's chest over and over again until the Saracen's lifeless body resembled a bloody piece of meat.

His breathing fast, Robin stared down at the horrified face of the dead man, whom he had just killed in an almost barbaric way. "What have I done?" he asked himself.

Much put a comforting hand on Robin's shoulder. "Snap out of your melancholy and control yourself," he whispered to his friend. "Marian's presence is disturbing, but you have to take a hold of your emotions. The king needs you."

Robin turned his gaze at Much. "Much, it is not only Marian. It is…" He broke off abruptly.

"What?"

"I feel strange, as if I had reached a point of no return." Robin's face and eyes were completely blank. "I feel that my life has come to logical end."

Much grabbed his shoulders and shook him. "Don't ever think about that! We must find the king!"

Robin felt his heart pounding harder and harder; he had to find Richard and save him. "Thank you. We should go, Much. Hurry."

Much wiped his brow from sweat. "We are here again, but I feel as though we had never left."

"I feel the same," Robin agreed. His face turned serious. "Be attentive. We will talk later."

Robin walked down an alley; Much followed him step by step. They didn't see Archer who emerged from the corner of a building, shaking his head in disbelief. He witnessed how Robin had slaughtered three Saracens and heard what Robin said later. Archer was impressed with his half-brother's fighting skills, and he doubted that Robin was a shallow man like he had thought before.

Robin and Much saw five Saracens galloping their little Arabic horses straight in their direction. The assassins pulled back their bow cords and nocked arrows. Robin crouched and prepared his Saracen bow; he shot an arrow, then another one, and then launched a storm of his arrows at the Saracens. Several Saracens slipped from their horses, and Robin laughed as he saw a trail of bodies near the frightened horses.

As Robin and Much continued walking down one of the many street in Imuiz, they didn't notice the lonely Saracen who tiptoed from the back and held his sword in the air before striking the deadly blow down at Robin's head. They kept going until Robin felt with all his skin that someone was behind. Just as he intended to turn around, they heard a loud battle cry behind.

Robin immediately turned around and saw Edmund of Cranfield rushing in an attack at the assassin from the back. The assassin also swung around and lunged at Edmund, the blades clashed and loud screams of pain filled the air. Edmund tumbled to the sand, a golden scimitar driven into his chest; the blade apparently penetrated his lungs as he began to choke with his own blood. The Saracen lay dead nearby as Edmund's sword had almost severed his neck.

In a heartbeat, Robin was on the sand; his hand clasped Edmund's. "Edmund, you saved my life."

Edmund smiled painfully. "I did the right thing, Robin."

"Sir Edmund!" Much exclaimed in horror as he sat on the ground.

"Much, a good and kind man," Edmund murmured.

Robin was amazed. "You were not supposed to be here, Edmund. You were with Roger."

"We found the king. He is not alone," Edmund said slowly. He paused, nearly choking with blood that filled his mouth and trickled down his neck. "He sent me to you."

"Why?" Robin questioned.

"To protect you, Robin." Edmund smiled vaguely. "King Richard loves you so much."

"Oh, Edmund." Robin stroked his dying friend's hair. "You shouldn't have saved me."

"No, you must live." Edmund shook his head.

"Where is the king?" Much asked.

Edmund again choked with blood. "The king was with Roger, Carter, and Allan."

Robin drew a deep, painful breath. "I have to be there," he said, thinking that he also couldn't leave his dying friend. "No, I will stay," he amended.

Edmund clutched Robin's hand, smiling. "Robin, tell my wife that I saved Robin Hood."

Robin felt tears sting his eyes. "I will."

Robin noticed Edmund's glassy, pointless gaze. Edmund died, saving his life King Richard's order. His friend was dead because of Vaisey's treacherous plots against the king! That thought that only one man could have caused people so much pain angered Robin madly. Robin clenched his fists as black fury swept through him and a cloud of anger gathered like something visible around his head.

Much tugged at the sleeve of Robin's tunic. "Robin, we have to go. We must find the king."

Robin was silent. Moved by the solitary tragedy of Edmund's death, he found himself searching for words to give a tribute to his friend. He bowed his head, looking down at the corpse. "Rest in peace, Edmund. I will never forget what you did for me throughout all the years we fought for the king shoulder by shoulder. I will always love you."

"I will never forget Sir Edmund too," Much muttered as he blessed himself with a cross.

Robin lurched to his feet. "We must keep the king safe."

Much also stood up. "Let's go."

"Edmund was a good and strong man, loyal to England and the king. He didn't deserve to die," Robin said emphatically before casting a last wistful glance at Edmund; then he strode towards the end of the street, heading to the part of Imuiz where King Richard seemed to have gone.

As they turned around the corner, Robin lost Much among the narrow passages between the buildings. Robin was alone in the deserted garden of a rich sheik's house, but the fountains had long ceased to splash and the stench seeped in through the heavy iron lattices.

The hot morning sun shone down on the polished armor of the Crusaders and the pale sandy dunes, and Robin inhaled and exhaled, feeling as though he hadn't make a breath, for there seemed to be no oxygen in the air. He wished something to shade his eyes against the glare of the sun.

Robin stopped moving for a moment and used the back of his palm to wipe away an annoying bead of sweat that hung from his eyebrow. His eyes were already smarting from the steady trickle of sweat that ran down his temples. He thought that he envied the Saracen men who wore loose clothes made of light silk material instead of his heavy Crusader tunic.

Robin shook his head, cursing the labyrinths of Imuiz and intending to go down the alley where he had left Much. He heard the sounds of someone's footsteps behind, the sound muffled by the sand; these were not light footsteps which the Crusaders usually had after fighting in the Holy Land for years and being able to noiselessly move on the sand.

Robin turned around and stared at his attacker; then he swiftly parried the unexpected diagonal blow. "What a perfect meeting!" he said, grinning at his enemy and swinging his scimitar at Guy of Gisborne.

"Hood, we meet again," Guy hissed between gnashed teeth. With a growl, he lunged at Robin.

Robin easily parried his blow. "How are you, Gisborne? Not dead from the heat?" Smiling smugly at his childhood enemy, he blocked Guy's overhead blow. "Last time you were in Acre in November, and now it is the end of July. It is hotter here, right? Do you like the weather?"

"Now you will die, Hood! Your time to die has come!" Guy screamed in rage.

Robin measured him with a skeptical look. "You promised to kill me so many times." In a smooth, fluid motion, he brought his scimitar up and crisscrossed it with Guy's broadsword. "But you always failed."

"But today you will die!"

"At least it won't be at your hand," Robin teased.

Gathering all the strength he possessed, Guy rained down on Robin such a powerful overhead blow that his muscles stiffened and he roared in pain. He planned that a blow of such a great strength would knock out scimitar from Robin's hand, but he was mistaken.

Robin ducked and sidestepped a blow, then lunged at Guy from another angle. The blades clashed, Damascus steel hissing against English steel, and Guy had to defend himself from Robin's new assault. Guy made another attack with a chopping motion of his sword, the edge of the blade landing against Robin's scimitar. Grinning from ear to ear, Robin extended his sword arm forward and then dodged from a blow. Smiling at Guy's angry face, Robin lunged at his enemy again, his blade flashing silver in the air.

Guy made a preparatory movement by sliding his blade down and then taking it up, aiming at Robin's neck. "I am fed up with you, Hood."

Robin sidestepped the blow. "Yeah, it is a great pity, Gisborne!"

"You are mine." Guy blocked a crisscross blow. A severe scowl appeared on his face, for he was angry that Robin still had an upper hand in a fight.

Robin laughed. "You don't like my beautiful blows, do you?"

"I don't like you!"

"Let me guess, Gisborne," Robin began as he sidestepped a diagonal blow and launched a new attack on Guy. "You have hated me since childhood."

"I hate you because you ruined my life, Hood! You took from me what was mine!" Shaking with fury, Guy gave a loud cry of a madman and charged into the battle with newly found vigor, his heart hammering so hard that he heard his own heartbeat as he moved in the fight with Robin.

Gisborne brought down his sword with such a furious strength that the cracking sound resonated and scimitar trembled in Robin's hands. Yet, Guy didn't manage to knock the scimitar from Robin's hands as the sandy-haired man ducked, jumped, and then kicked Guy into his knees, throwing him on the sand.

Guy howled with pain, and slammed his fist in the air. He scrambled to his feet and threw himself at Robin, who, however, rolled over on the sand to get away from Guy's grip. Guy grabbed Robin's legs and pulled him towards himself, Robin's face almost touching the dust. Robin kicked Guy and, using his enemy's temporary abashment, twisted Guy's right hand behind his back. Guy cursed under his breath and was about to attack Robin again, but the lithe archer slammed the fists into Guy's chest.

"Sorry for causing you some pain," Robin said with a grin. He jumped to his feet and grabbed his scimitar from the sand. "But you deserved that."

Gisborne grabbed his sword and scrambled to his feet, extending his sword to make a new assault on Robin. "And you deserve death. You deserve to be killed by me."

Robin was parrying a blow after blow. "You hate me because you are a fool! I hated you because I was a fool! But we are both guilty of so many things! Don't you see that, damn you?"

"You stole the Gisborne lands from my sister and me! I had to sell my sister because of you and your damned father! You are a thief and a liar!" Guy lunged at Robin, who again easily blocked a blow.

"You don't know so many important things, Gisborne!" Robin yelled in sudden rage, his senses directed solely on the fight.

"You are lying!" Guy bellowed, gritting his teeth and advancing at his rival.

"I am not lying!" Robin's voice was careful and controlled. "I lied only once in my life, when I didn't say that it was my arrow that wounded the priest! I never lied again!"

The dark, hateful grimace on the face of the sheriff's henchman turned into bewilderment at Robin's admission. "Criticizing yourself, you filthy outlaw?" He sneered as he stabbed at Robin.

"I am not an outlaw anymore." Robin deflected Guy's attack, performed with the forte of the blade. "And I also wash myself very often, Gisborne; for sure more often than you did on the ship."

"You may hold two Earldoms and be married to the king's cousin, but you will always be a damned thief!" Guy's expression was such as a man undergoing a terrible torture might wear but is determined yet not to let a whimper escape his lips.

Robin traded a series of fierce blows with Guy. "Ability to accept your own faults makes you a stronger man and more harmonic personality! But even if you, Gisborne, learn the truth and see how mistaken you have been, you will always blame others for your own mistakes and choices because only a strong man can accept that he is wrong and then atone for his sins and transgressions!"

"I don't need your pity!" Guy roared, unable to control himself.

Robin's eyes lit with intense anger. "You blame others for your misery, and it is true. I won't deny that I wronged you in childhood. Some… other people did wrong things to you too."

Guy's steel blue eyes turned deeply blue, stormy with dark emotion. "You are at fault, Hood!"

Robin's pale blue eyes flamed up with dark fire, and Robin parried another blow. "No, Gisborne! You are mainly at fault! You made your own choices, not my father or I! You chose to serve Vaisey and Prince John! You are guilty of killing many innocents!"

"Shut up!" Guy thundered back as he swung his sword at the source of the words he hated to hear.

"You fear to hear the truth about yourself!" Robin set his scimitar to counter a blow Guy swung at him. "Damn you, Gisborne, be a strong man and accept responsibility for your own mistakes!"

"Stop talking! Stop talking!" Guy roared savagely. He attacked the younger man again, aiming at Robin's stomach.

"You murdered my friends!" Robin forced a new attack from Guy through the parry.

Guy again lunged at Robin. "I killed them because I had to do that!"

Swiping to meet an incoming blow, Robin raised his scimitar in a clanging parry. "You killed Roger of Stoke, one of my best friends!" he shouted. "You killed my men from the private guard on the night of the Saracen attack!"

Guy heard pain in Robin's words, and surprisingly his heart constricted. "Yes," he said as he parried Robin's blow. "I had to get rid of them."

"For whom did you kill them? For the sheriff or for yourself?" Robin made another assault at Guy.

"I didn't want to kill them! I had to kill them!" Guy shouted.

"Why did you spill their blood?" Robin fired back.

"I had to kill them because I had to re-take everything my lands," Guy hissed between clenched teeth. "The sheriff gave me back what you stole from me in childhood!"

Robin lashed out with his sword, swinging for Guy's head as rage slashed through his heart. Guy sidestepped a blow before swinging down hard. Robin made a circular blow and then crisscrossed the blades with his enemy, and suddenly, Guy found himself lying on the ground, his face down, his mouth full of sand; Robin's sideways lunge caught Guy off-guard and flung him off balance.

"You killed them because you cannot control the darkness in your heart," Robin said, looking down at Guy. He shook his head, his face contorting in disgust. "You killed them because you are weak and pathetic, Gisborne." He stepped aside, making a gesture to invite Guy to continue their fight.

Aware that Robin would attack him again, Guy got to his feet. He looked at Robin and shuddered at the sight of the clearheaded, unearthly detachment on Robin's face, Robin's eyes unusually bright and cold. Guy saw the same expression on Robin's face during the two bloody fights in England, when Robin had killed like a demon-possessed man; now he again saw Robin seized by frenzied bloodlust.

The fight between Robin and Guy continued. They were formidable fighters and masters of weaponry, but Robin was more skilled with a sword because of his unique fighting style and because of intensive practice of fighting with a sword in fierce and bloody battles with the Saracens. Guy was heavier and physically stronger than Robin, but that was fully compensated by Robin's unique sword fighting style, adroitness and agility of his movements, and his countless tricky, complicated blows.

Robin parried Guy's blow, moving adroitly and rapidly. Then Robin feigned a movement to the left and sliced to the right, almost catching Guy off-guard. Robin attacked Guy again, raining more and more blow at his foe. An enraged Guy blocked a blow and charged into the battle with a newly found passion, his blows more powerful and more systematic as he was trying to build a complicated strategy to overpower Robin. Yet, Guy couldn't predict what type of a blow or a combination of blows Robin would use; Hood was one of the most difficult opponents Guy had ever fought with.

Robin spun around and advanced forward. His scimitar met the broadsword knocking it from Guy's hand; he pointed his scimitar at Guy's throat. "Cool off your head, Gisborne. Your anger and hatred blind you. Not everything is as it seems, and one day you will learn the truth."

Robin's penetrating gaze impaled Guy. "You are behaving strangely, Hood," he admitted with a sneer.

Robin laughed. "Sorry, but I have to leave you here, Gisborne. And I have to do something… painful." Then he slammed his fist into Guy's face, rendering him unconscious. He turned around and threw Guy an apologetic smile over his shoulder. "Most ambitious men wouldn't let it restrain them, but they better do that." Then he walked away.

After Robin had left Gisborne, he passed a long alley and then climbed on the roof of a building to have a greater view of the town. Looking down on the road, he felt relief washing over him as he saw King Richard riding on his white stallion down the street.

Lifting one hand to his forehead, Robin winced when his fingertips encountered a small bruise above his brow; it was a trace of his recent skirmish with Gisborne. "Sire, I was looking for you!"

King Richard smiled at Robin. "I am alright, Robin."

"It is a trap. You should leave this place," Robin said adamantly.

Richard raised his head and saw the assassin behind Robin. His reaction was immediate: he threw his sword into the Saracen, saving Robin's life. Karim groaned and tumbled to the sand; the assassin was dead. "Careful, Robin," he exhorted.

"Thank you." Robin smiled gratefully, his gaze focusing at Karim.

The king nodded. "Welcome."

"Wait, milord," Robin admonished. "I cannot let you go alone, unprotected."

"Robin, I will be alright," Richard assured him, a small smile quivering in the corners of his mouth.

"Milord, you need protection. You cannot go alone," Robin insisted.

Richard shook his head in disagreement. "Robin, you will never change," the king addressed his beloved knight. "At times, I don't know what it is better – your disobedience, insubordination, stubbornness, foolhardiness, or persistence." His voice was friendly. "You fear nothing, not even the wrath of Kings." He chuckled. "Good luck, Robin. Be careful and safe." Then he rode away.

Displeased that he didn't manage to persuade the king to be more reasonable, Robin rushed to the staircase and descended to the ground floor, intending to find the king. He intended to disregard the king's order and find one of his friends to protect their liege the escape route from Imuiz.

Looking around, Robin found Nasir hiding on the roof of a nearby building; he prepared his bow and shot an arrow that hit the vile Saracen in his neck with deadly accuracy.

"Another one," Robin said to himself, relieved.

Relieved that another assassin was dead, Robin rushed to the road, but found himself on the ground. Robin opened his eyes and stared at his attacker in surprise, for the man was Sir James of Lambton, the former head of the king's private guard in Robin's absence and the traitor, who was the sheriff's spy in the king's camp. Suddenly, Robin felt a stab of pain passed through his heart, realizing that he was punched in his face. Robin extended another hand ahead and blocked James' blow.

"So many traitors," Robin commented dryly.

Robin jumped to his feet and lunged at James, who ducked just in time, and, screaming an ululating challenge, attacked Robin. James and Robin danced around one another, the clash of steel against steel resonated in the hot air.

"Oh, you didn't expect to see me here, Lord Huntingdon?" James hissed.

Robin parried a blow. "No, I wasn't shocked, Lord Lambton. At least now I understand why the attack on the camp when I was wounded was undetected."

James lunged at Robin. "You are right. I made half of the night guard leave their posts on that night."

"You have always been a spy in the king's camp. You must be a spy whom we have been searching for so long." Robin swung his scimitar in a deadly arc at his rival.

James laughed as he blocked a blow. "You see, Locksley, I am cleverer than you are."

"You know, James, I have never liked you." Robin made a new assault on the traitor.

"I have always despised you, Huntingdon."

"Why, James?"

"King Richard has favored you too much," the traitor snapped wrathfully.

"Ah, I see," Robin drawled. "Envy and jealousy."

James swung his sword in an overhead blow, and Robin turned away, reaching his scimitar up and slicing James' forearm. Overwhelmed with rage, James flung his body at Robin, then he wrapped his hands around Robin's throat and started strangling his captain. With his back on the sand, Robin attempted to fumble his sword, but it slipped from his hand when James began to strangle him.

"Die now, Locksley," James said with a maddening smile. "I have wanted you dead for so long."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Robin whispered, his eyes locking with Much's anxious orbs.

Understanding that Robin was in danger, Much rushed forward at James and stabbed his sword at the traitor's exposed neck, beheading him with one swing. "Oh, Robin," he murmured, his expression a strange mixture of fear, terror, and determination.

"Thank you, Much," Robin said with a smile.

"Are you fine?" Much gave his hand to Robin, looking at his friend with concern.

"Yes, I am. Just a little tired," Robin said truthfully.

"A traitor deserves a traitor's death," Much stated, frowning in disgust at the sight of James' body.

Robin smirked. "Yes, Much." He leaned down and took his bow and scimitar in his hands. "Let's go." He tightened up his sword belt, then stalked forward to find the king, quickening his pace.

§§§

Sheriff Vaisey plotted a murder – this time he wanted to kill Sir Carter Leighton of Stretton, Baron Clifton. He didn't forget that he had once hired the charming blonde assassin to kill Robin Hood, but Carter not only had failed to kill Robin, but also had deceived Vaisey and conspired with the outlaw to take money from the sheriff by humiliating and robbing the evil man; later Carter had joined Robin Hood in his noble efforts to save England and the king.

Vaisey giggled, his eyes narrowing calculatingly as he spotted Carter who exchanged heated words with Roger de Lacy and then walked down the street. Carter was alone, and the sheriff had a chance. Vaisey wasn't a man who could forget and forgive his humiliation or betrayal; he always made traitors pay with their lives. The venom in his blood threatened to poison his own body with hatred and chagrin if he couldn't take revenge against those who betrayed him.

The sheriff hid himself round the corner of a building, waiting for his victim to appear at the crossroads between two narrow streets. He unsheathed his new golden scimitar, preparing to take Carter's life. He liked a light Saracen curved sword very much; he bought a new sword for himself in Acre, wishing to check whether a Saracen sword made Robin such a great fighter. In a few moments, Carter appeared in sight: he stopped at the crossroads and glanced around, searching for his enemies; and the sheriff cursed under his breath.

"Roger, please keep the king safe. I will find Robin," Carter said in a high voice.

Carter continued walking, looking around attentively again and again, as if he were suspecting the danger. Carter took a right turn, and suddenly Vaisey appeared from the corner of the building and attacked the Crusader. The sheriff sliced Carter's right side deeply through the ribs with his Saracen curved blade. Carter felt the blade penetrating his flesh, and he fell to the ground, with a groan.

The sheriff laughed. "Bye-bye, Blondie. You are a traitor, and I never forgive betrayal!"

Vaisey left Carter bleeding into the sand, but he didn't see that the Crusader's eyes flung wide-open after the sheriff's departure. Clutching his side with his right hand, Carter almost lost his breath as he put all his strength to put himself into a sitting position. He was wounded, but he was alive.

Carter dragged a deep, painful breath, trying to move his body. Clutching his side, Carter was slowly crawling on the sand, leaving a large bloody trace behind. He knew that he had to hide from the easily observable alley, where he been stabbed, in order to avoid being killed by one of Vaisey's accomplices.

Suddenly, Carter saw a pair of boots right before his face. He raised his eyes and looked at the intruder. "Roger," he said in a whisper.

"Carter! Carter!" Roger de Lacy looked very troubled. "Who did this to you? Who?"

"The sheriff," Carter rasped.

Allan stood behind Roger. "I am not being funny, but the sheriff is a nasty man!"

Roger and Allan crouched to examine Carter's injury. In a moment, they heard a loud war cry and saw three Saracens galloping on their horses in their direction and preparing to shoot them.

Suddenly, red feathered arrows slammed deeply into the assassins' chests, right into their hearts, with lethal accuracy. The horses cried in fright, and the Saracens dropped dead.

"Robin?" de Lacy asked, looking around.

"These arrows are not Robin's," Allan remarked.

Startled and confused, they stared at their savior, who was a young handsome man, grinning insolently at them, his pale blue eyes twinkling with mischief. The unknown man held a Saracen curved bow in his hands, not aiming at them; he also had two Saracen long and short curved swords at his belt.

"I am not Robin, but my aim is as deadly as Robin's," Archer bragged. "I am Archer."

"I haven't seen you here. How did you get here?" de Lacy inquired.

Archer scoffed. "I just was in a right place and at a right time."

"Look, mate, we thank you for saving us. Are you gonna say for whom you are fighting?" Allan asked.

"Better reveal your allegiances now. If you are Vaisey's man, I will have to kill you," de Lacy snapped, narrowing his eyes, his green eyes narrowing and hardening as emeralds, his hand at his sword.

"Roger de Lacy, you are a hellish warrior," Archer said with a merry laugh. "I don't doubt that you are good at killing people, and you killed many Saracens. Your reputation says everything about you."

De Lacy blanched. "How do you know me?"

Archer smiled. "Well, you are a famous man in the Holy Land."

"Whose side are you taking?" de Lacy pressed.

"I am my own man," Archer stated, grinning sheepishly, his chin up proudly. "I am not going to kill you. Otherwise I would have let these assassins shoot you."

"Very well," de Lacy conceded.

Archer raised his brows. "Maybe we will stop talking and help this wounded man?"

"The king!" Roger de Lacy exclaimed. "We have to find the king."

Archer shrugged eloquently. "Sorry, I haven't seen the king. I even don't know how he looks like."

Sheriff Vaisey was only in one step from the completion of his divine mission – murdering King Richard. The king's sacred life was in grave danger. The tragedy was in the air.

After he had stabbed Carter, Vaisey made his way along the road, pressing himself to the walls of the buildings. The sheriff stopped in awe as he saw the back of King Richard on his white horse; the king was riding alone and unprotected in Imuiz. His hand gripping his Saracen recurved bow, like Robin's, the sheriff stopped in the middle of the road and stared at the king, who was escaping from the town.

"This is so sweet! King Richard and alone! Robin Hood doesn't love his precious King!" Vaisey smiled smugly, his jeweled tooth gleaming in a row of white teeth. "Long live King Richard!" he proclaimed in a mocking tone. Then he quickly drew an arrow across his bow, and a cunning smile curved his lips. "No!" he sneered, aiming right at the king's heart from the back.

King Richard didn't sense the danger. As his horse reached a narrow, sandy alley and he looked around to examine his surroundings, the king roared in pain as the sheriff's arrow struck him. A sharp pain coursed through his right shoulder, and the king slipped off the saddle, falling on the sand in the empty courtyard. Aware of the attack on himself, Richard thought that he was an utter fool to ride alone and unprotected as he remembered Robin's offer. He moaned in pain, the pain in his shoulder so intense and sharp that he couldn't see light and could discern nothing else that made sense to him.

The king was wounded. His head was spinning, his heart making double pounds, his eyes shut.

Guy of Gisborne was awoken from his slumber by a loud howl of pain. He slowly opened his eyes and looked around; he lay on his back alone on the sand. He frowned, puzzled why he was still alive if Hood had won their fight. Guy's last clear memory was about his fight with Robin Hood. He was hugely relieved to discover that his headache wasn't as bad as he supposed it could be. He blinked his eyes against the sun, the blaze of brilliance reminding him that he was still in Acre and had a task to kill the king and save the lives of Marian and Isabella from the sheriff.

Feeling his heartbeat returning to its normal pace, Guy lifted his body into a sitting position, and blinking in the sun, put a hand on his forehead, brushing away some beads of sweat. He made himself stand up, feeling dizzy and groggy. He started walking through the narrow passage in one of the huts, wondering who had screamed so agonizingly. Tightening his grip on the hilt of his sword, he quickened his footsteps, walking in the direction from where the sound had come from.

As someone's distant, high-pitched scream coursed through the hot air, Little John, Marian and Isabella shuddered in horror. It was not a scream of rage – it was a howl of pain. Each of them felt fear flare up in their chests, wondering what was wrong and who was wounded or killed.

"I am leaving," Marian proclaimed.

Little John grabbed her forearm. "Marian, please wait here. Robin will be worried about you."

"Something happened. I have to go there." Marian was stubborn and inspired to save someone today.

John shook his head. "Robin ordered that–"

"I am not Robin's soldier. I don't obey his commands," Marian snapped angrily.

Marian wrenched out of John's grip and ran outside the building where Little John was keeping Isabella and Marian as Robin had ordered him, ignoring John's pleas to stay and obey Robin's commands. She felt that something had happened, and she had to be there.

John looked troubled. "Marian is right. Something serious happened."

"Definitely if someone roared in pain," Isabella agreed. She almost finished untying her hands, which she had been doing since the moment John had forgotten his knife in another building where they had initially intended to hide but then had left as there had been too many Saracen assassins in that part of the town.

John sighed. "I fear someone has been seriously hurt."

Isabella smiled as she stretched her hands ahead; her wrists were hurting from the bonds but she didn't care about the pain at the moment. She stood up and grabbed John's staff, slowly approaching him from the back. Then she hit John on the back of his head with his own staff.

"You are a large man, but you are very foolish. I have my own plans here; nobody will distract me from my mission," Isabella said to herself, her mouth smiling even as the words came through her clenched teeth. "Everything else is irrelevant." Then she exited the building.

§§§

Marian ran towards the large courtyard, in the direction where she had heard the scream. The landscape was morbidly exasperating – only yellow-tinted sand and white Arabic buildings. She stopped as she turned round the corner and found herself in the deserted courtyard. Her gaze fixed on the injured Crusader, an arrow protruding out of his back. Her heart was beating violently, threatening to blow up her chest as she realized who the warrior was – the King of England himself.

Without any second thought, Marian rushed to the wounded monarch. Maybe there was a reason that she was in the Holy Land. Maybe she was destined to save the king. Robin saved the king's life many times during the war, and she admitted that she craved to do the same. There was a sort of competition between them after Robin had uncovered her in the Nightwatchman's disguise. Her mission was to save the King and England.

Marian noticed that Richard slightly moved his left arm, a sign that he was alive. She sighed with relief, but then stood rooted as she saw her husband, Sir Guy of Gisborne, his sword unsheathed, strode towards her in the courtyard. Her heart pounding, she ran forward and stood in front of Gisborne.

"Guy!" Marian called aloud. "Guy!"

Gisborne frowned at the sight of Marian, displeased that she was there. He didn't want her to see how he would take the king's life. He had to remove her from his way, even if he couldn't remove her from the square. He had a task to fulfill – to kill King Richard and protect Marian and Isabella from Vaisey; he had no doubt that Vaisey would carry out a threat without any hesitation.

"Marian," Guy murmured to himself. He was fascinated with Marian's beauty; in her white dress, contrasted with her dark brown hair, she looked like an angel among death.

Guy advanced forward, and Marian ran towards him. Guy glanced at the king, who lay vulnerable and unprotected, squirming in pain. He didn't feel thrilled at the thought of killing the rightful king who lay so close to him, wounded, unprotected, and squirming in pain. His spirits plummeted; his breathing was quiet, yet erratic. His heart was beating wildly in his chest, and he found it difficult to catch his breath. Even his broadsword suddenly seemed to be too heavy to hold it and all the more strike a fatal blow, taking the king's life.

Marian outstretched her hands defensively, blocking the path to the king. "Please stop! Stop!" she beseeched. "It is over, Guy!"

"Get out of the way!" Gisborne shouted.

Marian stepped backwards, closer to King Richard. Her hands were shaking, but she knew that she had to do everything to guard the king until Robin and the others arrived in the courtyard. She was also angry with Guy who wanted to commit regicide despite all her pleas to stop before it was too late.

Marian locked her eyes with Guy's. "All this time I have been fighting for England," she announced passionately. "Do you think I am going to let you kill England?"

Gisborne felt rage slashing through his veins. He slashed the blade through the air, and sent her a fulminating look. "Marian, get out of the way!" he bellowed.

"I cannot let you kill King Richard!" She didn't move when Guy took two steps forward and raised the broadsword, lashing out at her. "Guy, don't commit an act of high treason! Stop before it is too late!"

"Get out of the way!"

"If you want to kill the king, you will have to kill me first!"

Startled, he shook his head in denial. "No, no."

"I won't let you kill the king and England!" she persisted.

"Marian, King Richard is not England. He is the weak and bad king. He is the foolish and selfish King. He abandoned his people to fight in these godforsaken lands. He doesn't care about England and his people. Your judgment is clouded. England will be better without Richard."

"England will be worse with Prince John on the throne than with King Richard! King Richard is the rightful King of England, and he is a fairer ruler than his brother can ever be."

"Quiet!" Gisborne's voice boomed. "You don't understand, do you? I must kill King Richard! Otherwise Vaisey will kill you and Isabella! I cannot allow the sheriff to kill my wife and my sister!"

"I know more than you do. Vaisey has already tried to kill Isabella and me," Marian declared.

"No, no." Guy shook his head in disbelief.

"It is true, Guy. The sheriff dragged us into the desert. We were tied up to the poles together with Robin's friends. The sheriff said that he wanted Isabella and me dead because he doesn't tolerate _divided loyalties_. He hates that our relationship has made you softer and kinder."

Guy looked horrified. "I don't believe you."

"Guy, listen to me," Marian admonished. "It is true. You cannot kill the King of England out of loyalty to the man who nearly killed your wife and your sister today."

"But you are alive…"

"Robin and his friends saved us from the desert and brought us here," Marian explained.

"Robin Hood saved you?" Guy's jaw dropped, his eyes widened disproportionally, like large two holes.

"I am alive only thanks to Robin," Marian confirmed. "Otherwise I would have died in the desert."

Gisborne strode forward, but then paused looking at Marian with shocked eyes. "I cannot believe you. Vaisey has always been the only man who truly cared for me. He helped me to survive in Normandy. I owe him everything. He would have never betrayed me."

Marian was fed up with persuading him, and now she wanted to hurt him. "I am so disappointed in you. I have tried so hard to make you a good and decent man, but you let me down."

Guy stepped closer to her. "We are going to get out of this. I am going to do this thing, and then I will have power beyond measure." He still held his sword up. "I will do this and then we will be together."

"I am so disappointed," Marian repeated, seething with anger. "Perhaps, I should have married Robin more than a year ago." She wanted to hurt him so much at that moment; she dreamt of hurting him as much as his unwillingness to kill the sheriff hurt her.

Gisborne gasped for air. "What?"

"_Maybe I should have married Robin of Locksley, not you, Guy of Gisborne. Then I wouldn't have been so disappointed_," Marian stated, laughing bitterly at him and herself, despair overwhelming her, strong waves of hot anger overcoming her over and over again. "Robin loved me. He proposed to me and I accepted. But then, on the day of Nottingham's siege when Vaisey disappeared and then Robin brought him back, I married you because I saw no future with Robin."

Guy looked like a ghost. "Hood proposed to you?"

"Yes, and I accepted," Marian repeated, her cheeks burning with shame mingled with anger; at least, now Guy knew the truth. "I lost my hope that Robin would love me more than everything and everyone. I was jealous to England and King Richard, as Robin has always been utterly loyal to the king and England, while I selfishly wanted him to put his love for me above his convictions."

King Richard lay on the sand, wounded and weak, but he didn't pass out yet. Marian and Guy didn't know that the king was attentively listening to their heart-to-heart conversation; otherwise Marian wouldn't have been so frank even despite her desire to hurt Guy.

Guy shook his head. "No! No!"

"I am sorry, Guy, but it is true," Marian confirmed. "I wanted you to be only your own man, free from Vaisey and your demons, but I was naïve to think that you love me more than power."

"You lied to me," Gisborne hissed acidly. "You lied to me about so many things."

Marian gave a nod, her face somber. "And I am ashamed of myself for that."

"You lied to me!"

"I didn't lie about my attitude to you!" Marian countered. "Everything else was real."

"No, you are a liar. You and Hood…" Guy's eyes darkened with rage. "You were lovers after his return."

Marian stared into Guy's eyes. "It is also true. I accepted Robin's marriage proposal, and at first I didn't know that I would marry you," she defended herself. "I am sorry, Guy."

Gisborne's eyes widened. "No!"

She shivered as she saw hurt and anger in Guy's steel blue eyes. "It is true. I am ashamed that I lied to you and that I didn't tell you the truth, but I couldn't do that for many reasons. And I also really wanted to change you and be with you." She sighed. "But you, Guy, have no right to blame me for everything. You are not innocent, for you also lied to me."

Guy was shaking with rage. "You are a liar!"

Marian held his gaze, blocking his way to Richard. "I lied to you, but I never killed anyone. You once tried to kill the king, but you failed because Robin stopped you. Now you are again trying to commit this grave crime." She sighed deeply, disappointed more than before. "Unlike you, Robin would have never tried to kill an injured man, all the more the king."

Guy of Gisborne felt hot anger piercing him to the core, to his heart, sending strong waves of rampage and cruelty through his body. "You fooled me! You played with me!" Feeling an impulse to strike her with his sword for all her lies and deception, he made a small step forward.

"Marian!" Robin shouted as he appeared in the opposite side of the courtyard.

A white feathered arrow whizzed in the air and struck Guy's sword in the hilt; the sword slipped from Guy's hands and tumbled to the sand.

Gisborne turned to face the newcomer. "Hood, again you!"

"Have you gone mad, Gisborne?" Robin asked wrathfully, with a touch of tremendous anxiety in his cold and steady tone. Holding his Saracen recurved bow in his hands, he was aiming an arrow at Gisborne in case Guy made a hasty movement. "Are you going to kill both the king and Marian?"

"I… I didn't mean to kill her..." Guy looked down, on his boots.

"But you meant to kill King Richard, and you even were about to stab Marian," Robin said sternly.

Guy raised his head and stared at Robin. "I don't know what came over me."

"Robin, Guy is telling you the truth," Marian said simply, her eyes full of fear which she could no longer mask. "Guy didn't plan to kill me. He didn't raise his sword at me. He only took a step ahead."

Robin was still cautious and alarmed. "Very well, I want to believe you."

Marian flashed a bleak smile. "Thank you, Robin."

Robin's eyes flew to Guy. "Gisborne, take several steps from Marian. I don't trust you."

"I am not going to obey you, Hood," Guy fired back.

Robin narrowed his eyes to slits. "Then I will kill you, Gisborne."

"Robin, no," Marian pleaded. "Please don't harm Guy!"

Guy nodded. He saw the fierce resoluteness in Robin's eyes, and he took several steps aside.

Guy felt as though he had fell in hell as the moment he had dreaded for so long finally came; he stood face-to-face with Marian and Robin and could hear the truth from Hood's mouth. His eyes frantically darted between Marian and Robin. "Marian and you, Hood, had been lovers before she married me."

"We were betrothed twice," Robin said truthfully, still targeting Gisborne. "Gisborne, Marian chose you over me. I accept her choice and respect it." He drew a deep breath. "And it doesn't matter now. I am a married man, and I am faithful to my wife."

Marian felt her heart sinking into her throat. She would have felt herself set on causing amorous skirmishes under normal circumstances – if the king hadn't been wounded and witnessed the scene. She had endured much pain and distress since the news of Robin's marriage, but now she suffered from the ravages of jealousy at the thought of Robin renouncing their relationship in favor of his wife.

"You don't care for Marian anymore, Hood?" Gisborne sounded skeptical.

"I do care and I always will. I cannot deny this," Robin said sincerely. "Yet, Gisborne, I am not a threat to you. I have accepted Marian's choice." He smiled. "I am content… and happy in my marriage."

The king moved his arm, and streaks of sharp pain were shooting through his shoulder and back. He groaned aloud, his body trembling all over. For a long time, he lay still, suppressing his moans and listening to the long conversation between Guy and Marian. He rejoiced that Robin had come, fearing that Gisborne would probably kill him despite Marian's brave attempts to stop regicide.

Robin stared at King Richard, concerned. Their eyes met, and Robin saw the fear in the king's eyes. He knew that he had to do everything to save Richard, and he would even if he had to sacrifice his life to let his liege live.

"Guy of Gisborne, it is time to stop this madness," Robin declared resolutely. "You are not killing King Richard. You are killing nobody."

"I… I don't know," Guy hesitated.

Marian grabbed Guy's sword and stepped backwards, looking at her husband, her face ghostly pale. "Guy, Robin is right. It is time to stop. I know that you don't want to kill the king."

"It is so strange," Guy said hesitantly, his expression tormented. "I don't know why I don't want to kill the king. I am not sure that I would have killed him if I could. I was more prepared to kill Richard last time, although I hesitated, but not now… I don't know. But I had to try… because Vaisey had you, Marian, and my sister… And Vaisey promised me power."

Guy smiled. Somehow, in realizing that he was clearly not seduced by the idea to commit regicide again on this occasion, he began to feel that the situation might not be as bleak as he had feared.

"You won't work for Vaisey anymore!" Marian exclaimed.

Robin let out a tense smile. "Forget about the sheriff! Vaisey is done."

"La di da di da! Who said that it is over?" Vaisey nearly sang.

They turned around, and their eyes widened in horror. The king also turned his gaze, cursing in his mind. Sheriff Vaisey stood on the opposite side; he held Isabella of Gisborne before himself, pressing his golden scimitar to her throat.

"Did you miss me, my friends? Whom do we have here? A wounded lion, a noble hero, a repentant sinner, and a hypocritical leper! This is so sweet! This is so great!" Vaisey bellowed. "It is not over! The game is only beginning! If you make a move or do something stupid, I will slash the throat of this little missy!" He laughed, pressing blade tighter to Isabella's throat. "Let's give this leper a bloody leprosy!"

§§§

Robin, Guy, and Marian stood rooted in the courtyard, staring in painful daze at the smiling Sheriff Vaisey who was holding the blade at Isabella's throat. Isabella looked terrified, her face pleading everyone for salvation and help.

"Blah-di-blah-di-blah! Don't you want to say something to your Sheriff? Did your mouths turn so dry in the heat that you lost your ability to speak?" Vaisey broke a silence, a wry smile on his face.

"Release Isabella!" Guy said in a commanding voice. "Release my sister!"

"Gisborne, you betrayed me!" The sheriff paused for an effect. "I offered you everything, but you betrayed me after everything I had done for you. You could kill the pitiful King, you were so close. But you chose a leper, not me. I will never forgive you."

"My lord, please release Isabella. My sister did nothing wrong to you. She didn't try to hurt you or ruin your plans. Please don't hurt her," Guy appealed to his master. His gaze lingered at Isabella, a touch of panic in his voice. "She has nothing to do with our… disagreement."

"Vaisey has already tried to kill us today," Marian accused.

"I told you that I hate lepers, Gizzy. But you chose your lepers, not me, not power," the sheriff said with a sneer, the spurt of blood spraying into a messy mist across Isabella's neck.

"Vaisey, don't hurt her," Robin said. "Stop! Release her!"

"Put your weapons down. Or I will kill her," the sheriff threatened.

Marian dropped Guy's sword on the sand. Robin put his bow and sword on the ground too.

"You must release her! Now!" Guy demanded.

Vaisey scoffed. "Wait, Gizzy, my boy. Be patient! You know that I am not a fool, and I want to have something… which is yours… and also partly Hood's." His gaze shifted to Marian, and he laughed. "Instead I offer a fair exchange! I want Lady Marian in exchange for Lady Isabella!"

"What?" Guy looked dumbfounded.

"Vaisey, you cannot be serious," Robin said quietly.

The sheriff stared at Marian, grinning wickedly. "My dear missy, Lady Marian, I swear that I will slash Lady Isabella's throat if you don't trade places with Gizzy's little sister. Do you want to have her blood on your hands? My missy, don't disappoint me! You are usually so compassionate!"

"No!" Guy shouted. "This is not going to happen!"

"Wait!" Marian addressed. "I am coming, my lord."

"Marian, stop! No!" Robin admonished.

But Marian didn't listen. She slowly started walking towards the sheriff, ignoring Guy's desperate pleas to stop and Robin's screams at Vaisey that he had gone mad and that he would pay for his crimes. Vaisey only laughed at them, his laugh dark with sheer malice, as if he had known something they didn't know. As Marian came to Vaisey, he swiftly released Isabella and then took Marian hostage, hitting her on her buttocks and then pressing the blade to her throat.

As the exchange had been finished, Isabella didn't come to Robin or Guy. Instead, she circled the sheriff and finally stood at Vaisey's right. Her face brightened, and a satisfied smile spread across her features. She had fulfilled Prince John's mission: the prince didn't need both Vaisey and Gisborne and had sent her to Nottingham to check loyalties of the sheriff and his henchman. Isabella had played her role well, and now she could have asked Prince John for the long-awaited reward he had promised her – the death of her husband. On the way to Acre, she had quickly realized that Guy was a more likely party to be disloyal to the prince, and it made her happy because she craved to bring Guy down.

At first, Isabella had been shocked with the prince's idea of making herself the sheriff's prisoner right before the scheduled voyage to Acre, with the calculation that, most likely, she would be taken hostage and would be dragged to Acre in chains. The plan had been that she would watch Guy and Vaisey together and figure out who was more loyal. It was an insane plan, but now Isabella didn't regret that she had travelled to the Holy Land: she met Robin of Locksley, whose handsome appearance and charm made her heart flutter in her chest; she saw the wounded King Richard, a rare event in history; and God gave her a chance to take her revenge against her brother, whom she hated wholeheartedly.

"What does that mean?" Guy inquired. "Isabella, come here."

"And why should I, Guy?" Isabella gave him an arrogant look. "You are an utter fool, brother."

Marian looked confused. "Isabella, what are you doing? Vaisey tried to kill you today!"

Isabella laughed. "You are an idiot, Marian."

Robin eyed Isabella, his eyes taking in her smile and her content face. Vaisey was also laughing uproariously. All of that registered in his mind, and he realized that Isabella had been at Vaisey's side from the very beginning or switched sides later. The sheriff's last trick gave Robin a perfect understanding how much he underestimated Vaisey's cruelty and evilness and how right Richard was when he told him about that. His reaction was bound to be calm and dispassionate.

"Bravo, Lady Isabella! You deserve my deep and undying respect! You are bold and cunning beyond any measure," Robin said emphatically, his mouth twisting in hash, mocking lines. "You fooled Gisborne, Marian, and me. Who send you to Acre? Prince John, your lover?"

"Lord Huntingdon, you are a clever man," Isabella said in a honey voice. "I am sorry that we have met under such… delicate circumstances. I think we could have been friends."

"I doubt that, my lady," Robin contradicted. "I am against regicide."

Isabella let out a small, melodic laugh. "When Lord Vaisey delivered us into the desert to die, he didn't know the truth about my relationship with Prince John."

"What did Prince John want from Vaisey and me?" Guy asked.

"Prince John wanted to check your loyalties," Robin answered instead of Isabella; he directed his gaze at Guy. "Gisborne, John doesn't need the sheriff and you, his master-at-arms, because any henchman always turns against his master sooner or later. The prince needs only one of you."

"Lord Huntingdon, you are a very clever and conniving man, unlike my stupid brother," Isabella said. "By the time we arrived in this town, I had already known who is more likely to be disloyal to Prince John." She tore her gaze from the sheriff and stared at Guy, her eyes flashing with disdain.

Marian felt Vaisey's foul breath, and she shivered in disgust. "How did you find the Sheriff?"

"After Marian left, I wished a good night to that stupid big man, and then I found the sheriff," Isabella continued. "I showed the sheriff the ring with his insigne, which John gave me as a proof of my association with him." She giggled. "And then we made a deal."

Robin laughed. "You are one of the Black Knights."

Isabella smiled at Robin. "Very true."

"Lady Isabella, you are an amazingly cunning lady! I like this in you!" The sheriff began to laugh, but the sound was not really a laugh, but rather a nasty cackle. "I would have never dragged you into the desert if I knew the truth."

"Traitor," Marian spat, looking at Isabella contemptuously.

"Release Marian! Release her!" Guy shrilled.

The sheriff laughed sardonically. "Oh, I will release her, my friends, but only if you grant me my most cherished wish!" He pressed the sword to Marian's neck, a couple of droplets appearing on her skin. "This dear missy has a wonderful skin, like alabaster. It would be a great pity if she gets some scars…"

Robin's face was blank, but inside his heart was tearing apart in pain mingled with agitation, fear gripping his entire essence, for he feared her death. "Vaisey, what are your conditions for Marian's release?"

"What do you want, Vaisey?" Guy looked defiant, his voice edged with mingled pain and shock. "I will do everything for you. But please don't kill Marian."

Vaisey sneered. "I know that Gisborne will probably do that… but not… Hood…"

Robin's patience was running thin. "Vaisey, tell us what exactly you want."

The sheriff laughed nastily. "Kill King Richard," he ordered.

Robin raised a quizzical brow. "What did you say, Vaisey?"

"Kill King Richard, one of you, my treacherous Gizzy, or you, my sweet Hooddie," Vaisey demanded. His blade scraped a superficial cut on Marian's neck, and it began to bleed slightly. "Or Marian will die."

"Never," Robin replied, taking a deep breath, horrified to the deepest depths of his heart and his soul.

Richard stared at Robin in absolute shock as he heard the sheriff's words. Like Robin, he concluded that he had failed to estimate Vaisey's wickedness. He did fear the outcome of the regicide attempt.

"This is no joke, my friend Robin," Vaisey nearly sang.

"I think our Lord Sheriff is not kidding," Isabella added, her face suddenly turning serious.

Vaisey stared at Robin's face which was torn between anger and bewilderment, and he had a sudden urge to laugh. He laughed so hard that Marian gasped for air as the blade was pressed tighter to her throat. "Hood, I am not joking. I want King Richard dead, and he will be dead. Gisborne or you, Hood, will kill the legendary lion."

"Vaisey, did the heat deprive you of an ability to think rationally?" Robin declared in a steady, controlled voice. He had to use all his self-control in order not to show his panic that had swept over him as soon as the sheriff verbalized his demand. "You are losing, Vaisey. Your assassins are dropping dead like flies: my people and I have already killed many of them, if not everyone, by now. I myself killed several Saracens. The Crusaders will come here any minute, and you will have no time to flee."

A smile curled the sheriff's lips. "I don't doubt that you can kill, Hooddie of Locksley. I have already seen Robin the Crusader, not the peace-loving and weak Robin but the bloodthirsty Robin who slaughtered my guards near the cave and on the Great North Road."

"Prince John considers Lord Huntingdon a strange man," Isabella intervened in the discussion. "Indeed, he killed many Saracens. Some people say that he has blood of hundreds of the heathens on his hands. Yet, in England he was playing a role of a peace-seeker."

Sheriff Vaisey narrowed his eyes. "And now it is time when you, Hood, can show how you have learnt to kill at war," he mocked. "Hood, kill your precious King Richard to save your leper Marian."

Robin blinked, his anger barely controlled. "Vaisey, think about my offer – you will lose anyway. If you let Marian go now, I will let you escape from Imuiz and you will have a chance to save your life."

The sheriff laughed, shaking his head. "No, Hood, you won't sway me from my course of action. I am too close. I won't go back." His gaze shifted to Guy. "Gisborne, I have heard your little chat. Your little leper wife is a passionate lass! And how do you feel that your leper used you for so long? She was with Hood and then ran to you." He laughed. "Hood and you, Gizzy, are pathetic."

"It is not your deal, Lord Vaisey," Marian hissed, fury mingled with a tart feeling of humiliation sweeping through her. "Guy, don't listen to him. He is trying to provoke you. He likes humiliating you."

Vaisey pressed blade to Marian's throat so hard that she gasped for air. "Gizzy, do you love your wife? Or do you want her to pay for loving both Hood and you, my boy? If you are willing to save your wife from death, from the tragedy of being buried into the sand, then kill the king."

Guy grabbed his sword. "I will kill King Richard. I will do that."

"Stop right now, Gisborne! I won't allow you to kill the king!" Robin's voice coursed through the hot air. His mind raced through alternatives: he couldn't kill Richard, his king and half-brother; he couldn't let the sheriff kill Marian. He shook his head, his mind beyond coherent thought to find solution.

Guy strode forward, heading to the king. "I don't care for the king! I want Marian alive and safe!"

"No, Guy, don't do that! Don't kill the king!" Marian implored.

Robin blocked Guy's path. "I won't allow you to murder our liege."

Guy shot him a scornful look. "You don't care for Marian and anyone else, Hood. You love only King Richard and glory," he said with disgust. "You have always been a bloody hypocrite."

Robin gripped Guy's forearm, looking into his eyes. "You cannot kill the king."

"I will do everything to save Marian. If I have to get rid of the king, you, or anybody else, I will do that to save her," Guy protested. "Unlike you, I am a responsible man."

"You don't understand," Robin continued in a lower tone, his eyes revealing perplexity and despair. "You cannot murder Richard. You don't know many things. You don't know the truth."

Robin's insistence drove the sneer on Guy's lips into a grimace of agony. "What do I have to know?"

"_Richard is your half-brother_," Robin informed. "You cannot kill your own brother. It is blasphemy."

Guy's face was white in shock and fear. The priest from the small church in the suburbs of Nottingham had told him that he would commit an act of blasphemy if he had killed the king. If Roger of Gisborne had confessed his sins to that priest several days before the fire, he could have told him something about Guy's true parentage, Guy mused. But he didn't want to believe that it was true; he shook his head, as if it could chase his disorganized and dark thoughts away.

"No. It cannot be," words tumbled from Guy's lips.

Robin nodded. "Your mother, Lady Ghislaine, was King Henry's mistress. She got pregnant by him, and then Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine found a husband for her, Sir Roger of Gisborne."

Guy shrugged his shoulders. "I knew that, but I am Roger of Gisborne's son!"

"No! Your mother was hastily married off to Sir Roger to save her reputation," Robin elaborated.

Guy felt his head spinning. "But how do you know so many details?"

"Richard himself told me about that," Robin answered.

Guy looked shocked. "Oh my Lord."

"That's why you cannot kill him," Robin summed up.

"Gisborne! Hood! How long do I have to wait?" Vaisey's venomous voice resonated. "I understand that you have to decide who will make the lion bellow in pain, but I have no time." He laughed. "The sun has spoiled my skin, and I hate tan! Tan doesn't suit me!"

"Then kill the king," Guy said quietly.

"I beg my pardon?" Robin feigned bewilderment.

"You, Hood, kill the king," Guy clarified.

Undecided and hesitant, Robin turned around and looked at King Richard. Their eyes met, and Robin put all his love, devotion, and pain into his gaze. Silently, he begged the king for help, for a plan, half a plan, or something. The king gave Robin an uncertain glance, and Robin turned away.

"Vaisey, are you serious?" Robin asked, his tone sodden with doubt. "You will really kill her?

"Hood and Gizzy, I am tired and I have no time. Either one of you will kill the king, or I will kill Marian," Vaisey threatened, his blade again scratching the tender skin of Marian's neck. "There are only two choices. Life or death. The king or Marian. Gisborne or Hood," he added philosophically.

"You should decide," Isabella prompted. "Who will kill the lion?"

"Hood or Gisborne?" Vaisey laughed maliciously. "Or Marian dies!"

A deathly silence settled over the square, and all that could be heard were their ragged breathing and King Richard's rare muffled moans. Lead-gray clouds gathered angrily on the horizon, piling up in purple masses and promising a storm, and the wind began to blow from the side of the desert.

Guy and Robin stood rooted, too shocked to speak, and too frightened with keeping an eye on Vaisey's smug and sneering face and Marian's deathly pale face. There were cornered.

§§§

Stillness was punctuated only by the distant noises of the battle as the king's men were fighting with the Saracen assassins. In the other part of the town, quite far from the courtyard where the injured king had fallen, the king's supporters – Roger de Lacy, Archer, Will, Djaq, and Allan – were embroiled in the long and savage fight with the assassins hired by Vaisey and his Turkish allies. As soon as they finished off several assassins and were about to start searching for the king, they were attacked again.

Arrows whizzed in the air, but they ducked and continued the fight for their own lives and the king's life. The lifeless bodies of the assassins were scattered everywhere, the sand turned crimson with spilled blood. The clash of swords in the air and arrows whizzed back and forth. The battle was everywhere – in the open field and in the alleys between the buildings.

Lying on the ground, Archer was shooting Vaisey's assassins, grinning mischievously as his arrows, each of them with red razor-sharp arrowheads, slammed into the Saracens who fell dead. He had made up his mind that he wouldn't allow Vaisey to kill the King of England and Robin Hood. He had no sympathy for King Richard and the Crusaders, but he had seen what the sheriff could do, and he despised Vaisey; he didn't wish to help the madman kill innocents. He also had to admit that he had been impressed with Robin – with his half-brother's fighting skills and loyalty to the king.

Archer watched Roger de Lacy easily killing assassins, cutting life out of one Saracen and immediately turning to another enemy. De Lacy was like a God of war with a sword, his fighting style harsh, gracious, bloody, and well practiced on the back of the constant fighting with the heathens. Archer was stunned with the look on de Lacy's face as the other man slit a throat or drew his sword into an enemy's heart: Roger's gaze was sharp, blank, and cold, and a small smile was hovering over his lips as the sight of his victim's agony and then death.

Clearly, de Lacy loved bloodshed and enjoyed fighting, which Archer couldn't understand in spite of being a formidable fighter himself and having great knowledge in exotic weapons from the East. As he heard from Vaisey that de Lacy was younger than Robin Hood, Archer estimated that the hellish warrior was only twenty four years old, and such bloodlust at such a young age a kind of scared Archer.

When he was out of arrows, Archer unsheathed his long Saracen sword and charged into the battle. He lunged at his enemy from the right, his sword clanging violently against his opponent's strong parry. Archer swirled his sword around in a circle and assaulted an unexpected violent crisscross lunge against the Saracen. He made a new wild assault at the Saracen, surprising him with complicated types of blows and their combinations, and the Saracen was utterly confused what to expect from his young rival. Then Archer made a powerful diagonal blow and skewed his opponent across his stomach.

Archer brought his sword up once more in a quick and wild assault by pushing ahead and lunging at the assassin with an overhead blow, then transforming it into a downward blow aimed at his enemy's neck. The Saracen lunged, but Archer ducked and then performed a sideways swipe that was meant to parry a diagonal blow. The Saracen turned away from a blow, but he didn't notice Archer's sideways blow that flung him off balance and sent him toppling sideways. As the man lay on his back, Archer plunged his sword into the man's chest; the Saracen gurgled with blood and closed his eyes forever.

"Fabulous swordplay," Roger de Lacy commented as he approached Archer from the back.

"Thank you," Archer responded, staring at the corpse.

De Lacy easily distinguished a wealth of emotions rushed through his head and played across the other man's handsome face – triumph and relief, mingled with anguish and wistfulness.

"You haven't killed many people in your life," de Lacy asserted.

"I never fought on the battlefields of Outremer." Archer tensed, drew a deep breath and expelled it noisily, then inhaled again, sucking the air into his lungs as hard as he could. "And I don't like bloodshed on a wide scale."

Will and Djaq fought three assassins back to back. Will swung his broadsword and attacked the assassins, holding an axe in his left hand and a sword in his right hand; such a method allowed him to quickly slice life from enemies. Djaq lunged at one of the Saracens, parrying and blocking his blows; she was disgusted with the necessity to kill her countrymen and had to console herself with the fact that the assassins were their enemies and wanted to kill her friends.

Allan was fighting with the Saracens, cursing the Saracen fighting style, adroit and swift, unpredictable and frightening. His opponents were so skilful that Allan often thought he would be dead in the next second; twice de Lacy saved his life by killing those who could overpower Allan. He had to remember all tricks and some blows Robin had taught him to do when he had been Robin Hood's man. He dreamt of swapping his broadsword for a light curved scimitar like Robin's or de Lacy's.

Separated from Djaq by several Saracens, Will was battling simultaneously with two Saracens. He plunged his sword into the heart of an assassin, then turned around and slashed the throat of another attacker. An arrow whizzed near him, and in an instant another arrow struck Will in his forearm. He screamed and staggered backwards, startled and stunned. A hail of arrows flew right at Will, and Allan dragged him away right before an arrow cut through the air and almost hit the astonished carpenter.

"You saved my life. Thank you," Will told Allan with a smile.

Allan held Will close to himself. "Welcome, mate. Am I forgiven for betrayal?"

"I think so," Will replied with a smile. "Just don't do this again."

Allan shook his head. "Oh, no, I won't. Mark my words."

Will pulled an arrow out of his forearm. "Yeah."

"How are you?" Allan looked concerned.

"It is nothing. Just a scratch."

De Lacy raised his silver scimitar and attacked one of his enemies. The blades crossed, every blow being so powerful and fierce that the clash of metal literally vibrated in their chests. Laughing aloud, de Lacy beheaded his rival in one swing of his curved blade, turning to another assassin and lunging at his midsection, easily bisecting him in his stomach. De Lacy was about to lunge at another Saracen when Archer's arrows sliced into that man's chest.

"Great shooting," Roger de Lacy said admirably as he came to Archer. "Thank you."

Archer shrugged, grinning. "Always welcome."

"You are shooting like Robin of Locksley, my close friend," de Lacy remarked, amazed.

"I have an archery talent," Archer raised his chin proudly. "And, like you, Lord de Lacy, I also have a talent with a sword."

De Lacy waved a dismissive hand. "As for me, it is a combination of talent and practice. I fought for seven years in the Holy Land."

Archer sighed. "You are enjoying battle and bloodshed."

"Mainly yes, but not always. Too much blood is also bad, and that's why I hate all my time in the Holy Land." De Lacy sighed. "But I am not like Robin who doesn't like killing and often feels remorse."

Archer smiled. "No, you are not Robin Hood."

"I would never be like our Robin," de Lacy agreed. "You know you remind me of Robin."

Archer laughed nervously. "Why?"

"Your cheeky grin and pale blue eyes," de Lacy pointed out, looking thoughtful. "What a coincidence to have eyes of such a rare color!"

Soon they were again in the struggling mess of life and death, and all hell broke around them. The battle resembled a chaotic massacre more than a simple battle. Soon it was over, and the tired fighters stood watching the carnage, their faces grim and eyes empty.

"I am not being funny, but the Saracens are too much dangerous," Allan complained. "I thought that I would be dead by the end of the day."

"They move fast and attack when you don't expect that," Will observed.

"They just fight differently as compared to Christians," de Lacy commented. "You will get used soon."

"Oh, battle is such a gamble," Djaq mocked.

"No jokes, mates, but how is it possible to fight for many years in this hell?" Allan distasted everything in the Holy Land. "I would have committed suicide if I had spent more than three years here."

Archer gave half a shrug. "People get used to everything."

De Lacy smiled tensely. "It was not the bloodiest assault from all those I have seen here."

Suddenly, Much appeared from around the corner and walked down the street, his head turning back and forth, his eyes scanning the nearby area. Much lost Robin a long time ago somewhere in the labyrinth of alleys and streets in Imuiz as they had split up in search for King Richard.

"Much!" Djaq cried out.

Much paused and stared at his friends, his eyes surveying the carnage around them. "King Richard! Robin! Have you seen them?" He ran towards them.

Will looked frightened. "We thought that you are with Robin!"

Much stopped, catching his breath. "Robin ordered to split up. We lost each other. I tried to find him, but there are so many streets here. I lost my way and I couldn't find even the place where we parted."

"Have you seen the king?" de Lacy whispered, his heart beating at a ferocious speed.

"Robin found the king, who said that he would escape alone," Much informed them.

"As we recognized the trap, King Richard told me that he would leave this place. Then the battle began, and we were separated, but he was with Edmund and Carter," Roger de Lacy murmured. "Later we found Carter wounded by the sheriff. I thought that the king was with Robin and Edmund…"

After they had found injured Carter in the street, they had bandaged the wound rags to stop the bleeding. Carter had passed out from pain and blood loss, and they had carried him to one of the buildings, hiding him inside and intending to come for him later.

"Carter died?" Much asked, his face absent-minded and terrified.

"No, he is wounded, but alive," Archer reported.

"Who are you?" Much's tone was harsh, for he was naturally suspicious.

"Just Archer." Archer smiled charmingly.

"Much, it is alright. He helped us," Allan said.

"Maybe Robin accompanied the king to the camp," Will assumed.

Much shook his head. "No! Robin would have never left us in battle; he would have asked someone to take the king to Acre or to the camp." He sighed. "And Edmund is dead…"

"Edmund died?" de Lacy asked incredulously.

"Yes… Edmund… sacrificed… his life to save Robin," Much was barely managed to say. "We saw the king after Edmund had been killed."

"Oh," Djaq and Will shook their heads in shock and disbelief.

"Oh my goodness," Allan muttered. "The king was absolutely alone! Why didn't Robin make him stay?"

Archer was silent, his heart pounding harder and harder. He regretted that he hadn't killed Vaisey on the ship, so other people wouldn't have died today.

"That is not new and astonishing," de Lacy explained, his voice tight with an unidentifiable emotion. "This is King Richard's typical style. Robin can persuade and insist on his opinion, but if the king sets something in his head, he will do exactly what he wants. Even Robin's influence over the king is limited, though this influence is great. Richard always makes his own decisions in the end. If the king told Robin that he would flee Imuiz alone, then he acted exactly as he said."

"Thanks to God! I found you!" Little John strode towards them. His face lit up with a smile when he saw his friends, and he covered the remaining distance between them in a few running steps.

"John, what are you doing here?" Djaq inquired, her heart leaping into her throat. She tossed her head, as if shaking off a feeling of presentiment. "Robin ordered you to guard Marian and Lady Isabella!"

"There was a loud scream of pain or shock, and we heard it. Marian ran away to see what happened. And then Lady Isabella ambushed me," John explained hastily.

Allan sighed deeply. "What?"

"Lady Isabella hit me on my head, and I passed out. I didn't see her as she attacked me from the back," John reported, looking obviously embarrassed. "I tried to find Isabella, Marian, or someone else, but it was too late. I didn't see where they went; I was unconscious for so long."

Will put a hand on John's shoulder. "It is not your fault."

"It is my fault!" John countered.

"What are we going to do?" Will asked.

For a long moment, they stared at de Lacy and Much, instinctively assuming them to take leadership. And what they saw scared them, for de Lacy's expression was as grim as stormy clouds.

"Oh my Lord," de Lacy breathed, looking away, thinking whether the grave situation they had been in was real or only a figment of his overwrought imagination. "Isabella is Prince John's mistress and, I am sure, his spy. Her actions prove that. She might have conspired with the sheriff and Gisborne."

Archer uttered no word, his mind racing through the months of their voyage to the Holy Land. He could have never guessed that Isabella had been playing a knavish game, and he still wasn't sure of that.

"We don't know for sure," Will said.

"But someone screamed almost wildly," Little John murmured.

"King Richard or Robin…" Much felt his stomach clenching at the thought of Robin being surrounded by his enemies, and he willed his mind to slow and his panic to recede. "My God… Robin and Marian are alone with the sheriff, Gisborne, Lady Isabella, and the assassins, if some of them are still alive." Panicked, he looked back to de Lacy. "And the king?"

"It is possible that the king didn't leave Imuiz," de Lacy opined after a shot pause. "We have to find the king and Robin. Now I care only for them."

"We go and find them," John said decisively.

"They are in the other part of Imuiz. It is far from here," Djaq pointed out.

The after-battle hush accentuated the ghastly feelings that assaulted them after the revelation that Robin and King Richard were alone against the enemies. The same urgent and spine-chilling thought entered their minds: they had to find Robin and the king, hoping that if it wasn't already too late. They took deep breaths, and a panicked sensation seized their hearts filled with apprehension.

"Let's go! Hurry! Hurry!" de Lacy said in a commanding voice.

They turned on their heels, their footsteps quick and wide, praying that Robin and the king were alive.

§§§

A murderous silence descended upon the courtyard, breached only by Vaisey's giggles and the sound of splashing water in a fountain. A rising hot wind from the south and the east, which the Saracens called the khamsin, threatened to bring sandstorms to Imuiz and Acre.

Robin of Locksley looked around, his eyes wandering across the courtyard and stopping at the sheriff who was holding the blade at Marian's throat. He saw that there were some drops of crimson blood, Marian's blood, as the blade damaged her skin.

Robin sighed. He knew that the sheriff was serious, absolutely serious in his intention to kill Marian and his attempt to make either Guy or Robin kill King Richard in order to save Marian. Yet, Robin was sure that even if one of them had agreed to kill the king, Vaisey would murder Marian anyway. He didn't believe the sheriff's promises. He had underestimated Vaisey's wickedness for so long. He couldn't allow making another mistake. He had to think more.

Robin was a man who knew neither fear nor dread; he never hesitated and did incredible things to save his king, his comrades, and many civilians. He was known as the brave Captain Locksley in the Holy Land and as Robin Hood in England. Yet, as they stood in the courtyard, Robin did feel dread, fearing that they would fail and the sheriff would kill the king or Marian. He had been very frightened on the night of the Saracen attack when Gisborne had stabbed Robin but had failed to kill Richard. Yet, now Robin felt the ice chill of death, though he said to himself that he was just too superstitious.

Robin looked at King Richard, who gave Robin a long, mysterious gaze. His mind raced. He needed a plan, but he didn't see anything in the king's eyes, for Richard was as shocked as he himself was.

The king was afraid. Robin was his most loyal subject long before he learnt the truth about their blood ties, and he knew that Robin would never place him in danger deliberately, but the situation was not normal. Robin was very fond of his wife, Richard thought, but he still loved Marian, even though he was disappointed in her. Robin's loyalty was put to a grievous test when he had to choose between his king and his love. Richard couldn't shake off a feeling that he would probably lose the game.

Robin tossed his head. He knew that killing Richard wasn't an option, and he would never be able to take the life of his king, friend, and half-brother. He turned to face the sheriff – he had half a plan.

Robin stared at the sheriff. "I will kill King Richard. Go and look."

"Robin, don't do that!" Marian thought that she realized where Robin's mind was wandering. "All this time we have been fighting for England! We cannot let the sheriff kill England!"

"Hood… what…?" Guy stammered. A grimace worked its way onto his face.

"No, Robin, no!" Marian begged. "Let the king live!"

Vaisey smiled maliciously. "Don't try to trick me, Hood."

Robin looked around. The wind ruffled his sandy hair, and far from them, somewhere in the desert, clouds of dust were raising from the ground. Having spent many years in the Holy land, Robin easily realized that there was a sandstorm brewing. He had always been scared of sandstorms that brought terrors and could bury entire towns, villages, and armies, at times. If a sandstorm could reach Imuiz, they had to leave for the Crusaders' camp as soon possible.

"Vaisey, I am not a fool. I always know when to accept my defeat and when to fight. You cornered me," Robin recognized sorrowfully. "I cannot allow you to kill Marian. I will kill the king, though I… will never forgive myself for the king's murder." He cleared his throat. "Take Marian and go with me. I think you will be happy to see how I will strike a final blow in the lion's heart."

A faint smile manifested on the sheriff's face. "La di da di da! Let's go now, Hood. When I learnt how you killed Robert de Sablé, I knew that there is more in you than you show."

Robin and Vaisey, holding Marian, advanced towards King Richard; Isabella went after them, Guy also strode forward. The king's eyes widened in horror as he realized what Robin planned to do and he intercepted Robin's painful, resolute, and rueful glance, his eyes blank and glassy. They stood almost near the king, Vaisey sneering and laughing, Marian silent, and Robin somber.

"Hood, do it. Or I will kill her right now," the sheriff threatened.

Transfixed with mute horror and pleading God for help, Robin slowly raised his scimitar up and pointed it at King Richard. Richard's eyes glistened with a colossal amount of chilly disdain, and tiny, barely noticeable tears appeared in the corners of his eyes.

Richard expected a fatal blow somewhere in the region of his back or his side, but nothing happened. Instead Robin stepped closer to Vaisey, setting himself into a swift spin. Robin jumped and punched Vaisey in his stomach, directing his scimitar at the hilt of Vaisey's blade with such a great strength and at such a frightening speed that the sword fell to the sand and Vaisey was disarmed.

Using her chance, Marian sprang aside, away from Vaisey.

"Oh, Robin, you always have crazy half a plan," the king murmured to himself, smiling with grim satisfaction. Surprisingly, he didn't pass out yet. An arrow was still protruding out of his back.

Vaisey's lips thinned, his forehead marred with deep, furious frowns. "I knew that you would never kill your precious King, Hood, damn you. You will pay for that." He grabbed his scimitar from the sand.

Robin glanced at the sheriff, grinning smugly. "Come on, Vaisey! Show me your swordplay, my friend. Attack me, if you haven't forgotten how to fight with a sword."

"Hood, you are mine," the sheriff said in a minatory voice, his eyes full of inhuman hatred.

Robin swung his scimitar lightly from side to side, teasing the sheriff in a familiar, arrogantly infuriating manner. Glaring at his mortal foe, Vaisey gripped his own scimitar with both hands, and a wordless primal scream burst from Vaisey's mouth as he charged into the battle. Robin sprang forward with a surprising speed, swinging his sword as he aimed at the sheriff's gut. Vaisey deflected a blow and lunged at Robin, who spun and chopped down at his rival's head.

Looking at the sheriff locked in the battle with Robin, Marian rushed to the king; Guy wished to help Robin deal with Vaisey and began to stalk towards Vaisey.

Isabella reached them in two strides. Holding Vaisey's Saracen bow he had used to shoot the king, Isabella pointed an arrow at her brother and sister-in-law, her expression rueful.

"Don't move, Guy. I can kill you," Isabella warned.

"You cannot use a bow," Guy snapped.

"You are wrong. Shall I demonstrate my archery skills?" Isabella asked.

"Hold on, Guy," Marian urged, scared of the fierce, cruel determination in Isabella's envenomed eyes.

Marian and Guy froze, watching Robin's fight with the sheriff.

The sheriff jumped back out of the way, and Robin made a new assault, slicing upwards towards the older man's chest. The sheriff sidestepped and blocked the blow, and their swords locked together again, bringing them closer. Robin lunged at the sheriff with an overhead blow that transformed into an elegant deadly arc. Vaisey didn't manage to predict Robin's combination of blows, and he was unable to parry a blow; his sword slipped from his hand on the sand.

Guy wanted to move and stop Vaisey's madness by himself, but Isabella spotted the slight movement of his legs. Isabella's eyes bore the intensity of a cruel woman determined to get what she wanted even if she had to remove everything and everyone from her way.

"Stay where you are now, brother, or I will kill you or Marian." Isabella targeted at arrow at Marian.

Marian didn't dare move. "You are really going to kill me, Isabella?"

"If I have to kill you, I will," Isabella retorted with a smile. "You won't be the first one whom I killed."

Guy gave Isabella a shocked glare; he didn't understand what she meant. Did Isabella kill someone else? What didn't he know about his own sister?

Vaisey was angry. His heart pounded and rage coursed through him. Robin's last tricking blow enraged the sheriff. Snarling and gritting his teeth, the sheriff threw himself, all his weight, at Robin, trying to stab the former outlaw with his sword and twisting the silver scimitar from Robin's hands.

Robin and the sheriff tumbled to the sand near the king and began struggling. Robin slammed his fists into Vaisey's face and stomach several times. Vaisey was answering mainly by kicking Robin with his short legs and trying to stab Robin with his dagger he extracted from the pocket of his black tunic.

Despite Isabella targeting an arrow at Marian and Guy, they both didn't wish to stay uninvolved. Guy wished to help Robin defeat the sheriff; Marian was concerned about the Lionheart's fate.

Guy again made a movement towards the two fighting men, and in the next moment Isabella fired an arrow that struck Guy in the left shoulder. Guy howled with pain and staggered backwards; then he tumbled to the ground, an arrow sticking out of his shoulder.

"Guy!" Marian's pitched voice slashed through the air.

"Marian! Stay there!" Guy cried out. "Don't go to me!"

Isabella released another arrow, but Guy ducked in time and an arrow whizzed above his head. Isabella really could use a bow, and her aim was not a bad one. Enraged that the previous arrows had missed their target, she shot two more arrows at her brother, but Guy turned away and crawled on the sand, all the arrows whizzing past him; somehow he managed to stay unharmed.

Despite Guy's pleas to leave him, Marian was at his side. Isabella laughed in triumph as she watched Guy writhe in pain on the sand, trying to avoid being struck by arrows. Marian helped Guy to sit on the sand and then removed an arrow out of his shoulder.

Robin's fight with the sheriff continued. Robin was surprised that Vaisey turned out to be so physically strong. The sheriff was full of hatred, which pushed him to the edge of his sanity, and he was able to give Robin such a madly violent fight. Yet, Robin's smart and fast manner of struggle quickly exhausted the sheriff. Finally, Vaisey found himself on the ground, Robin sitting atop of him, his gaze cruel and sharp, his mouth twisted in hard lines. With inflexible, bitter sparkle in his eyes and a deep furrow on his forehead, Robin lifted his scimitar and pointed it at the small treacherous man, wishing to finish everything now.

"Prepare to die, Vaisey," Robin hissed; he gritted his teeth, his eyes glistened with danger. "I was too patient with you. This ends here!"

"No, Robin, don't!" Marian's anxious voice made him wince, and the sandy-haired man turned his head to look at her. "You can give him to the king and he will face justice."

"He deserves to die," Robin said firmly as his gaze locked with Marian's.

"Marian, stay out of this! What are you doing, you fool?" Guy squalled, grabbing her hand.

"Robin, you are not a killer," Marian persuaded, ignoring Guy's words; she didn't want Robin to take another death on his conscience, when they could simply arrest the sheriff and execute him.

"Kill him, Robin! Don't listen to her! Kill him! It is an order!" King Richard shouted.

Guy watched in disbelief the scene in the courtyard. "Hood, kill the sheriff!"

"What?" Robin didn't hear them well. All at once, he was confused and his mind was dazed, as if his entire being had been overwhelmed with the strange nervously appalling energy that had consumed him ever since Vaisey had started blackmailing him and Guy into killing the king. He remembered his non-killing code, and something snapped in his heart. He had planned to capture and detain Vaisey and later to have the evil man executed in front of a large, bloodthirsty crowd. Gray mists were swirling in his brain and thickened; there was no clarity at all. He hesitated, losing precious time.

Using Robin's temporary hesitation, Vaisey pushed Robin away with all his force and released his himself from Robin's hold. He slammed his fist into Robin's jaw and laughed as Robin groaned in pain.

"My dear leper Marian, what a good chicken you are," Vaisey prattled in singsong tones. "You should have killed me when you had your chance, Hood."

At the same time, Marian stood frozen, her eyes wide and darting between the wounded king, the ambushed Robin, and the wounded Guy. She didn't know what to do. She was lost for a moment.

Robin still sat on the sand, his mind strangely empty and vapid, as if it had stopped accepting input. The sheriff's punch was so hard that it had nearly rendered him unconscious; his vision was blurry, his head dizzy. Vaisey grabbed Robin's scimitar from the sand and, at a whirlwind speed, strode towards Richard, ready to plunge the sword into the lion's chest.

Guy saw what the sheriff had done, his eyes darting between the king and Robin. He jumped to his feet, ignoring the pain in his shoulder. But as he rushed towards the king, an arrow flew in the air and struck him in the same shoulder. Guy felt a wave of strong pain shooting through his shoulder. He again fell to the sand, clutching his wounded flesh.

"No, stop him!" Marian shouted as she guessed the sheriff's intention. She moved away from Guy.

Guy turned his head, and his eyes locked with Isabella's blazing eyes. "Isabella, what have you done?"

Isabella's eyes were cold; she held the sheriff's bow in her hands. "Let Lord Vaisey kill the king." She released several more arrows at Guy, and he withered like a serpent on the sand, trying to avoid being injured again; all her other arrows missed their target.

"Stop, Isabella! Stop!" Guy gave a howl of pain. "You are out of your mind!"

"No," Marian said. As she saw the sheriff coming after the king, she reacted in the way that came most naturally to her: she ran to the king, determined to stop the sheriff at any cost.

Soon Sheriff Vaisey already stood above King Richard. "I am so close to having absolute power! I will never be defeated!" he proclaimed in a rancorous voice, his lips lengthening in a lethally sweet smile.

"Stop, Lord Vaisey! Stop!" Marian shrilled as she began to run towards the sheriff. She didn't care that she was weaponless – she simply went after him.

Unfortunately, the sheriff already was too close to the king, and Marian needed time to cross the courtyard. God willed that Marian wouldn't become the king's savior on that tragic day. There was another person who was closer to the king than anybody else – he was Robin of Locksley.

The sheriff lunged at King Richard with Robin's scimitar and prepared to strike a downward blow.

As scimitar swung in the air, it struck not the king, but Robin who had hastily jumped between Richard and Vaisey. His forehead frowned in a tall line of creases, the sheriff stared at Robin with shocked eyes, his expression slightly stupefied, but only for a moment; then Vaisey's expression transformed sheer malevolence and flagitious satisfaction. The picture was unbelievable: Robin Hood had been defeated with his own scimitar that was protruding out of his abdomen.

Robin moaned in pain, his face contorting and tears stinging at his eyes; then he tumbled to the sand.

"Blah-di-blah-di-blah! I killed Robin Hood!" Vaisey's triumphal voice coursed through the air. "I killed Robin Hood! I have done that!" He laughed with delight. "And now I will kill King Richard!" He needed a sword to kill the king. He turned his head, his eyes searching for his own scimitar which he had lost after Robin had overpowered him in a fight. He almost ran to the middle of the courtyard, and grabbed his golden scimitar from the ground. Then he quickly walked to the king.

"Robin…" King Richard was utterly shocked, his eyes focused on his captain who lay on the ground near him.

Marian stood frozen, her face as pale as death itself. "No," she barely managed to say.

Robin felt searing, almost violent pain shooting through his entire body as the edge of the curved blade was driven deeply into his stomach, and he was barely able to repress a howl of pain. His heart pounded in thundering thuds as he tried to tolerate pain. He tried to move, but a mere movement was an agonizing torment. His white tunic was drenched with his own crimson, sticky blood.

"My God," Robin said to himself, knowing that it was a mortal wound. He tried to take a deep breath, but the pain intensified in his stomach, and his eyes filled with tears; he had never felt such a monstrous pain before.

"Isabella, watch them," the sheriff barked a command; he meant Guy and Marian who could still ruin his plans to murder the king.

Guy reached out for an arrow and took it out with one swift movement of his arm. He gasped and his face twisted in pain as an arrow was out of his fresh. Guy bolted into a sitting position on the sand, and a surge of pain went through him. He blinked his eyes and shook his head, and then he turned his gaze at Robin. The picture terrified him out of his wits, feeling as if savages had come rushing at him out of the mist, waving spears and swords and threatening to kill him.

"Robin Hood…" Guy muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

"No, no, no," Marian whispered over and over again, her expression horrified.

"Holy Mother of God!" Isabella put a hand on her mouth.

Guy made a movement towards Robin, but Isabella guessed his intention and nocked another arrow, the last arrow she had in stock. The arrow struck Guy in his left forearm, and he roared in pain.

Isabella only laughed at Guy, but then her eyes traveled to Robin Hood and her heart constricted in pain. She didn't like that Robin was so severely injured in regicide, knowing that he would most likely die. She also knew that Prince John wouldn't approve of Vaisey's actions because John wouldn't benefit from Robin's death. And then she saw what Marian intended to do.

Robin looked at the sun in the sky and the dark clouds, feeling darkness claiming him and almost to choke the life out of him. With great effort, Robin turned his head, barely able to keep his eyes open, and his eyes locked with Richard's blue eyes full of dread and disbelief. The voice in the back of his head reminded him that the king's life was at stake, and he needed to make sure that his liege and lord was safe and alive, but for some reason he couldn't move.

Robin could hear the violent pounding of blood in his ears and tasted the metallic tang of blood in his mouth. Through the mist that was swirling in his head, he could see the sneering face of their enemy across from him and almost above the king – Vaisey's face. He watched King Richard crawling further and further away, desperately trying to escape. He heard the king's quiet moans as the wounded shoulder caused the monarch great pain and restrained his mobility.

As Marian finally almost reached the sheriff, Isabella appeared next to her. She attacked Marian from the back and pressed a dagger to Marian's throat. "Stay where you are now. Let Vaisey kill the king."

Marian's heart was racing with fear; desperate panic was spilling through her veins. "You are truly diabolical, Isabella, you know."

"Marian, I am simply practical. When Prince John becomes the king, I will have everything I want," Isabella added, her amusement scorning her emotional pain that she had forced herself to participate in regicide; but she did that to cement her position in her lover's good graces.

Sheriff Vaisey was advancing forward at Richard who continued crawling on the sand.

"No!" Robin screamed in horror as he saw Vaisey approaching the king.

Vaisey already was preparing to lunge at the king with the scimitar he had in his hands. "Yes, Hood, you lost!" He laughed. "The lion will roar in pain!"

Richard continued crawling, but Vaisey was so close to him that he was sure he would die today, too. He stopped moving and permitted himself to look back. "Even if you succeed, Lord Vaisey, my brother will finally get rid of you, like he does with everyone who outlives their usefulness."

Vaisey laughed malevolently, his eyes sparkling with venom. "This is so sweet! This is great! The king and his captain die on the same day! I have won the war with the lion and his outlaw!" He made two more steps and lunged at the king with a fatal downward blow.

Robin tried to move to save Richard, but the king was no longer near him. There was no way he could again save the king from Vaisey. His head was pounding, his gaze became fuzzy, and he could feel his heart beating faster and faster, almost bursting out of his chest. He could hardly breathe, each breath bringing a wave of wild pain. And then Robin's inflamed mind registered a flash of steel as an unknown young man blocked Vaisey's blow.

The king wasn't destined to die in Acre. King Richard's life was saved twice – the first time by Robin and the second time by Archer who blocked Vaisey's downright blow in the very last moment before the sheriff's sword reached the lion.

Archer lunged at Vaisey, but the sheriff sidestepped a blow. Archer stepped forward and swung his scimitar, slicing the underside of the sheriff's forearm at the same time when he threw his weight forward and slammed his elbow with a satisfying crack right across Vaisey's face.

"You won't kill the king, Lord Vaisey," Archer avowed, his eyes flickering between the king and Robin, both of them wounded. "You have committed too many heinous crimes today."

Vaisey scowled, his face reddening from Archer's blow. "You are Prince John's assassin. You were hired to kill Robin Hood and the king," he declared scornfully. "You are nothing more than a stupid and weak brat, worse than Gisborne."

"I have switched sides. I have killed your assassins today in the bloody battle," Archer confessed. "But if I knew that the king was wounded, I would have come here straight away."

"This is true. This young man helped us a lot," Roger de Lacy said as he approached the king. His face twisted into harshness and then disbelief as he saw Robin and the king. "No. This cannot be…"

"Isabella!" the sheriff shouted. "Leave this leper!"

"I am coming!" Isabella punched Marian into her face, then ran towards Vaisey.

Vaisey dashed to the king's white stallion that stood riderless near a fountain, and hopped into the saddle. He understood that he wouldn't be able to kill the king today. He had a slim chance to flee Imuiz and Acre in order to avoid being arrested by the Crusaders only if he used temporary abashment of the king's saviors who were deeply shocked to find the king and Robin so grievously wounded. The regicide attempt was thwarted and the sheriff again failed, the king was alive, but at least he killed Robin Hood.

"Bye bye, Hood! Have happy burial, my leper bird!" Vaisey shouted, laughing. "Isabella, to me!"

"I am here!" Isabella was fighting off a creeping fear, struggling to think. She sighed with relief as she mounted the horse behind the sheriff.

"It is not over! I will have England!" Vaisey bellowed as he spurred on the horse and galloped away from the courtyard, heading to the harbor of Acre and intending to leave for England in less than an hour. He continued screaming curses, blasphemes, and insults as long as they were riding out of Imuiz.

* * *

><p><em>I hope you truly enjoyed this chapter and the plot.<em>

_At first, I want to apologize for a delay in updating this story. Life was too hectic. _

_It was an action chapter, with many events and some unexpected twists. I warned you that this chapter would be a kind of sensational. There is bloodshed and there is a character's death in this chapter as Edmund, Robin's dear friend, is killed. As it happened on the show, Carter was wounded by the sheriff and maybe he will die too._

_I hope you liked the drama in the deserted courtyard where King Richard fell from his horse after Vaisey's arrow had struck him in his shoulder. This regicide is exotic and original because nobody had ever written about Guy, Robin, Archer, and Isabella in Imuiz, trying either to kill or to defend the king. _

_Everyone had his or her own role in regicide. Isabella was a traitor who contributed a lot to the demise of Robin Hood; some people suspected that Isabella was a traitor and I told you that she has her own role in regicide. Marian told Guy the truth about her relationship with Robin, and there is finally clarity between them; she acted in the same way she did on the show, trying to hurt Guy as he disappointed her. Archer switched his sides and helped in the battle; he also has another important role in regicide and you will see this in the next chapter. Guy stopped near the line and he even tried to save the king, but was stopped after Isabella had shot him. Guy couldn't have been the king's savior because this is Robin's typical role._

_I think you didn't expect the demise of both Robin and Guy in Imuiz. Well, Vaisey wounded Robin with Robin's own scimitar in Robin's stomach, which is symbolical because Robin killed many people with the same weapon; this is a kind of Robin's punishment for spilling blood on the battlefields of Outremer. Guy's demise happened at the hand of his own sister, who hates him and wants to make Guy suffer for what he did to her many years ago when he solved Isabella to Squire Thornton._

_The next chapter is more emotional than this one – it is very tragic, and maybe you can guess what will happen next after Vaisey's escape. Don't ask me what will happen to Robin and Guy. Be prepared._

_What do you think about the chapter and the outcome of regicide?__ **I beg you to share with me your opinion and leave a review because it was extremely difficult for me to write this chapter. Reviews are always appreciated, including well-grounded criticism.**_

_If you find any typos and/or mistakes here, please let me know about them in a private message. _

_Thank you for reading this chapter. Have a lovely weekend._

_Yours faithfully, Penelope Clemence_


	9. Chapter 8 Death of the Hero

**Chapter 8**

**Death of the Hero**

Guy of Gisborne removed Isabella's arrow from his forearm. He awkwardly climbed to his feet; every movement was painful, the pain stemming from his three arrow wounds and spreading through his body in waves. Guy felt lightheaded and weak; the blood loss intensified after he had taken the arrow out of his twice injured shoulder. Then his eyes fixed with horror on Robin, and he shuddered in horror.

In the next moment, Much, Allan, Will, Djaq, and Little John appeared in the courtyard. Carter was not among them: they had left him in one of the buildings, intending to take him to the camp later.

They froze in horror, for nobody anticipated that they would have to face the tragic demise of King Richard and Robin, both men grievously, probably mortally, wounded. Never had they imagined, even in their wildest nightmares, that they would come to save the King of England and Robin too late. Forcing themselves to remain outwardly calm, they rushed across the square towards King Richard and Robin.

"No, no… It cannot be real! Not Robin…" Much looked horror-stricken and terrified.

"Dear God! So much blood…" Will's voice was barely audible.

"On, no, not Robin!" Allan cried out.

Little John tossed his head in disbelief. "Holy mother of God!"

"Oh, my God!" Djaq shook her head in the denial of the grievous reality.

Marian ran to Robin as fast as her legs carried her; Guy slowly trailed behind her. The expression on her face was hard to define, for she looked terrified, shocked, anxious, curious, and panicked, tears running openly down both her cheeks. She paused near Robin and held Guy's eyes for a moment, then looked down on the sand, on Robin's motionless form, and then on the broad pool of blood on the ground. She collapsed into desperate sobs, for the king's injury, the tragedy with Robin, and her own brush with death seemed to be too fresh in her mind, driving her to the verge of breakdown.

"Robin! Robin!" Marian cried out, her voice full of despair and shock. She crouched near Robin and clutched his hands, letting the tears come out of her in great gasping sobs. She felt as if her world were narrowing in on her, cutting off her air, as if her entire life were being turned upside down in very slow motion, for the harrowing incredibly of the moment was overwhelming and intense.

Guy stood behind Marian in an ominous silence, watching her crying near Robin's prone form as the hero lay on the sand with scimitar driven in his stomach. Emotions overwhelmed Guy, fear and numbness threatening to overpower him, his ability to think paralyzed. The horror manifested on his face at the sight of the great Robin Hood and the sand sodden with the younger man's heroic blood.

Much knelt and looked at his friend with tears in his eyes, his expression revealing something more than sheer shock. Then Marian sat down on the ground, cradling Robin's head in her hands.

"No," Marian whispered, her eyes frantic and tear-stained, her body shaking with sobs. "No, no, no."

Much took Robin's hand in his. "Robin, do you hear me?" he forced the words to come out.

"Is he… is he alive?" Guy knelt by Marian's trembling and crying form.

"Robin… Robin…" Marian sobbed. It was too much for her to bear, and she wished only to awaken Robin. She wished to imagine that nothing had happened and that they had just been gripped in the throes of some terrible nightmare. Everything that had happened over the past few days and in Imuiz hit Marian with a sudden fierceness.

"The king! Where is the king?" Robin asked as his eyes suddenly flung open, his face ghostly pale.

"He is alright, Robin." Marian held his head, looking down at him. "He is alright. You saved him."

"Where is the sheriff?" Robin swallowed hard.

"Vaisey escaped," Much reported.

Much shot Guy a fulminating look, his eyes full of disdain and hatred. Guy tried to avoid looking at Robin and all the more at Robin's ever-loyal Much, his eyes taking in the crimson sand. He felt a new tide of pain slashing through his shoulder, but he tried to ignore it; he continued losing blood.

"Did Isabella harm you, Marian?" Robin whispered, concerned.

"No, she didn't." Marian cradled Robin's head in her hands, then touched Robin's forehead, her thumbs gently caressing his skin; Guy gazed away, releasing a bitter sigh.

"Oh, Robin," Much groaned.

Robin managed a smile for his friend. "Don't be so distressed, Much." His eyes darted to Marian. "Sorry that I couldn't save you again, Marian."

"You saved the king and me today," Marian answered, stroking his hair that fell handsomely on his forehead. Her mouth twisted with the effort it was taking to hold back her emotions, but she was unable to control herself; tears seeped from between her lashes nonetheless, rolling down her cheeks.

Guy stood looking between Marian and Robin, so close to them, unmoving, the anger and outraged betrayal he should have felt at the moment buried beneath the ashes of what used to be his heart. He didn't know what to think. He was angry that Marian was so tender with Robin, but he made no attempt to drag her away from the wounded man, simply standing and looking at them absently. The tragic and shocking events in Acre affected him so much that he felt lost for the first time in his life.

Archer shuddered in shock as he glanced at Robin, his half-brother whom he met today for the first time and whom he failed to save. The rare tear fell unheeded from his pale blue eyes as he had already realized how dire Robin's predicament was. "I have no words," he whispered.

De Lacy knelt to the king. "My liege, you are wounded!"

"Robin? How is Robin?" King Richard asked, his eyes full of concern and fear.

De Lacy had never seen his king, the mighty Richard the Lionheart, so frightened. Apparently, the king was highly concerned with Robin's fate. He himself stifled a scream as he saw Robin, for he would love to fling both hands across his eyes in order not to see Robin with a sword in his belly. "Sire, Robin is injured," he said, his voice thick with emotion, but controlled. "I don't know how bad it is."

Djaq and Will rushed to the king. Allowing Djaq to have some space near the king, Roger de Lacy rose to his feet and stepped aside, to Archer. Djaq removed the arrow from the king's shoulder and then ordered de Lacy and Will to find something to bandage the wound; she immediately rushed to the fountain to get some water to clean the king's wound. She returned and quickly came to the king's side. De Lacy and Archer helped the king rise in a sitting position, and Djaq bandaged Richard's hand.

Djaq's clear, quick voice cut across the tense atmosphere. "Sire, you will have to ask your physician to tend to your wound again. This is only initial treatment. It needs to be cleaned again."

"Thank you." King Richard inhaled deeply. As he tried to move his hand, he groaned in pain.

"How painful is it?" Djaq asked.

"Quite painful," Richard replied.

"Your doctors will have to use some painkillers. You are not in grave danger, sire, but I doubt that pain will subside soon," Djaq said. "You may also contract a fever. Let's hope that it won't happen to you."

The king watched Marian and Much crying over Robin with a grim gaze that tugged painfully at his heart. "Go to Robin," he said in a croaking sort of whisper, which cracked and ran up an octave.

"Oh, God, no!" Djaq eyed Robin, her eyes stopping on the scimitar that was still inside Robin's belly.

"Can you save Robin?" Will asked in a shaking voice.

"No." Djaq moved towards Robin and in a heartbeat was next to her friend; she stopped near Robin, her eyes scanning his body. She knew that it was a mortal wound.

"How is it looking down there?" Robin's voice was quiet but clear.

Marian looked up at Djaq, who gave her a grim and desperate look. As Marian saw a tear trickling down Djaq's face, she realized what the young Saracen couldn't have said aloud. She lowered her head and her bosom heaved with sobs; she blinked the tears from her eyes, wiping them with her palm. She couldn't accept that Robin was going to die, but she had to be strong for him and for herself.

Guy also understood the meaning of Djaq's unspoken verdict, and he looked away, closing his eyes at the thought of what had just happened and what Robin must have been going through at that moment. Guy remembered what he had felt when he had once been wounded in a battle with a knight whom Vaisey had ordered him to kill and who instead had deeply sliced Guy through his ribs in his right side. He hadn't killed that warrior, but he had almost died from infection later. Thoughts that Hood had a much more serious wound and that his enemy was in agony made Guy shudder.

As soon as he had seen Robin, Much had realized almost instantly that his former master was dying; Much had seen too many wounded soldiers while they had being fighting in the Holy Land, and he had been no stranger to see lethal wounds of various types. Tears came fast to Much's eyes as he squeezed Robin's hand. An indescribable hollowness and unutterable despair filled his whole being.

"Am I beyond even Djaq's amazing talent?" Robin looked at Djaq, and then he smiled. "Well, I knew that from the beginning. But can we at least get this out of me? It hurts."

Marian shook her head. "Robin, we can't take it out just yet." She rubbed his cheek with her thumb.

Robin's eyes widened. "Why?" He turned his head and stared at Djaq. "Why?" He caught Djaq's sad glance, and raised his eyebrows slightly. "Will I die when the sword comes out?"

Djaq nodded her head, her face grave. "I am sorry… I am so sorry."

Tears blinded Much as he lifted his face and looked at the young Saracen. "Please, save him, Djaq."

"Miracles are not my area," Djaq said in a tight voice, feeling ashamed that she could do nothing for Robin.

"And if I don't take it out?" The king's grand favorite sighed, realizing how close to death he was.

"Robin, listen to me. You have some time… You will stay alive until you… take it… out… Don't move to avoid causing yourself pain, and you will live… for some time," Djaq recommended, her voice cracking; tears sprang to her eyes, and she became lightheaded from shock.

The effect of Djaq's words was overwhelming. Robin was dying. There was nothing to be done for him.

Roger de Lacy and Archer stood in a small distance from the place where Robin lay.

"Robin is dying… I cannot believe…" Roger de Lacy lamented.

Archer eyed him sympathetically. "The people say that there are… spiritualists, those people who think that they can bring back the dead, but these things are just fairy-tales."

De Lacy let out a deep sigh of regret and sorrow. "I would have given up my own life to save Robin." He shook his head. "I would have done everything to save him."

"His wound is mortal," Archer voiced the verdict.

"I cannot believe… Robin cannot die… He always took many risks, but he always won… his battles." De Lacy's voice was shaking. There were tears in his green eyes. "I love Robin so much. We have been friends for more than ten years. I have known him since he was fifteen and I was thirteen."

"I understand." Archer had no strength to watch Robin's death; he had to leave.

Marian shook her head, unable to accept Djaq's verdict. She looked down, at Robin, tears of pain and grief splashing her cheeks. Guy again stared in shocked horror at the silver scimitar protruding out of Robin's abdomen, the crimson blood dripping onto the sand, and shock caused his body tremble slightly.

"No, God, no," Much moaned. Hot, fat tears were trickling down his cheeks and scalding his neck. Will gave the distraught man a small cloth, but Much sobbed so hard that it was soon damp with tears.

"Please don't cry for me – it is my fate and I am… content with it." Robin mastered as much courage as he could gather to look calm, forcing his entire being to endure his agony.

"Robin, I am so sorry," Djaq muttered apologetically, unable to believe that she could do nothing to save the Englishman who had saved her life and whom she loved so much.

"It is my fate," Robin repeated. He sighed deeply, this time repressing his moan as a new wave of pain slashed through his body. "I want to have some time in privacy with Marian… and Gisborne."

"But Robin…" Much relapsed into silence as Robin shot him a warning look.

Djaq nodded and stepped away. Much also reluctantly stepped aside, glaring at Gisborne and Marian.

Guy also wanted to leave, but Marian took his hand in hers and prevented him from doing that. Guy didn't want to do that, but he couldn't object. Guy only feared that Hood was going to say or do something that would bring painful memories back into his life. Yet, Guy also wished to hear what his mortal enemy wanted to say before his death. Probably after Hood's death, he would be able to find peace at last; perhaps, he would be free of memories, burdens, and regrets.

Robin raised his brows in mock surprise. "Gisborne, do you fear to talk to me even when I am dying?"

Guy stiffened. "No, I don't."

"I told you that you don't know the truth," Robin reminded him. "But I will make sure that you will learn everything. You have a right to learn the truth."

Guy looked puzzled. "What do I have to know, Hood?"

"All in a due time." Robin grimaced in pain as he tried to move his body.

"Oh, Robin…" Tears sprang into Marian's eyes.

Robin swallowed hard. "Marian, please don't cry," he murmured, giving her a small smile.

"It is my fault, Robin," Marian murmured, silent tears streaking her face. "I shouldn't have interfered and distracted you! I should have let you kill Vaisey!"

Guy observed them from the corner of his eye. He felt weaker and weaker, his mind was clouded, his temples throbbed in pain; the blood loss and tension were beginning to have a huge toll on him. His hands were covered with his own blood that was still flowing out of his two wounds on his shoulder.

"Don't blame yourself. It is a tragic coincidence," Robin assured.

"It is my fault, too," Marian objected, tears leaking from her eyes. "I should have been silent! I should have killed the sheriff myself in Acre or in Nottingham!"

Robin drew a deep breath, so deep that it caused him a knot of pain in his lower chest and stomach. "I hesitated, thinking that Vaisey should have been executed publicly… to humiliate him before his death. The sheriff only used the moment and then everything went… so wrong." He paused, gathering his strengths. "I told you that it is _a tragic coincidence_."

"But you are… are…" She trailed off, unable to voice the truth.

"I am dying," Robin finished what she was unable to say. A grimace of pain on his face was replaced by a light smile. "But it matters a little. I once told you that I am not afraid of death. Death means little to me, for I have been long prepared to die. Death is just the last joke in a series of bad jokes."

"You… were prepared… to die?" His words about death sounded so natural and so proud, so dear, that Marian shuddered, feeling herself both confused and shocked.

Robin shrugged slightly. "Knights rarely die old. And I felt that I would die here, in the Holy Land." He coughed and moaned in pain. "I killed so many people in these lands that I cannot count numbers. My skills with a bow and a sword are not a blessing, but a curse."

"Hood, you shouldn't–" Guy broke off abruptly. Feeling dizzy, he landed on the sand, near Marian.

Robin stared at Guy, his gaze intensive and ever-penetrating. "I should speak while I still have time, Gisborne. There is so much blood on my hands, the blood of the Saracens, Djaq's countrymen. I often thought that I was doomed to die here, punished for all the crimes and horrors I committed in these lands. And it is the reason I couldn't kill after my return to England."

"Why are you telling me this, Hood?" Guy growled. "I am not a priest to give you absolution."

"Guy, stop!" Marian gave him a furious glare.

"Gisborne, it concerns you. You killed many people, and so did I," Robin said frankly. "But unlike me, you will see sunrise and sunset tomorrow. You still have time to redeem yourself. Don't kill anymore unless you must do that. You will destroy yourself if you continue killing in cold blood."

Guy scoffed. "I also don't have much time left. The king will order my execution."

Robin chuckled weakly. "King Richard won't execute you. I will take care of that."

"As though you can and want." Guy smirked.

"You don't know many things," Robin said, shutting his eyes for a moment.

"Robin, I don't want you dead," Marian lamented, hot tears shining in her eyes. She averted her eyes as a wave of anguish mingled with shame washed over her.

Robin's eyes were solemn as he tipped up her chin until she turned her gaze at him. "Don't cry, Marian. I am having a glorious death, for my king and for England."

"Will you forgive me for betraying you?" Marian begged, the tears standing unashamed on her cheeks.

Robin smiled. "I have already forgiven you. I have done many wrong things in our relationship."

Guy cringed at his words, a shudder running through him; then he glanced away.

She smiled through her tears. "Oh, Robin," she said, still holding his head in her hands. "I don't deserve you. I hurt you so much. I greatly wronged you, and I am so sorry for that."

"You are wrong. You do deserve someone better than me," Robin said in a half whisper. "And definitely better than him," he added, glancing at Guy. "I have come to the conclusion that maybe neither of us can make you happy. But if you can be happy with Gisborne, then I am glad."

Guy tipped his head. "Maybe you are right, Hood, and we both are not for her."

"Leave us for a minute, Gisborne," Robin asked. "Please."

Guy hesitated, and Marian sent him a pleading look.

Guy rose to his feet, almost losing his balance from the growing weakness. He was barely able to stand on his feet as he stepped aside, leaving Marian and Robin in privacy.

Robin gazed into her eyes, his expression pained, naked emotions of mingled anguish and affection dancing across his handsome features. "Do you love Guy?" he asked, fearing to feel the pang of disappointed love again.

She dropped her eyes for a moment, but that was not right. She had to speak the truth. She met his gaze almost defiantly. "I feel deeply for Guy," she admitted. "But can you really believe that I could ever in all of eternity forget you, my handsome, handsome Robin Hood?"

He grinned sheepishly. "You are most kind."

"Robin, I am being truthful now," she said with a ghost of a smile, a response to his charming grin. "I haven't forgotten you. You have always been in my heart. Always."

The tense lines of his face relaxed into a brilliant smile. "Then I have nothing to fear and nothing to regret before I die. I tried to make this world a better place in the only way I knew. I fought for what I believed in. I loved and was loved in return. I am dying a happy man." He sighed heavily, his expression doleful. "But I failed to save England – I saved only the king."

She was confused, not knowing where he was going. "You saved England and the king today."

He gave her a painful smile. "No, no. Wrong."

"Why?"

Robin feared to make the confession, but his face remained devoid of his intensely conflicting emotions that pulsated through him. And then the conflict in his heart was replaced by a breathtaking clarity, and colors of his life appeared brighter and more vibrant, and he felt enthusiastic to share with her his discovery. "I have realized that _the king is not England – the people are England_," he said in a steady voice, glancing into her eyes. "The king only represents England and is a symbol of the nation." He smiled knowingly. "_One man cannot save England_ – he can save only the king. The mission to save England was doomed to failure from the beginning, but it is very good to dream that you can save everyone; your father told me about that… before his death."

"Only the king," she whispered, shocked with his words. "Why are you having such thoughts?"

"I am not as idealistic as I used to be." He brushed a lock of hair from her face and ran an appraising finger along her jaw line, then tracing the curve of her cheek. "But I wouldn't have done anything differently. Otherwise I would have despised myself. And I am very proud of what we have achieved."

"I am proud of us, too." She squeezed his hand.

Robin smiled softly. "Marian, I still love you, in a way and with a certain part of my heart, but if I could have avoided loving you, I would have preferred that," he said with categorical honesty.

"Robin, I still love you, too," Marian whispered fervently. Tears flooded from her heart and rolled down her cheeks unchecked as the longing and pain she felt at the thought of his upcoming death came back with a breathtaking, bittersweet sharpness. "I love you for all our past we had together and for the great love we couldn't have because of our own mistakes and as an act of fate."

"I need King Richard," Robin moaned, closing his eyes.

A silence in the courtyard was absolute, and Robin looked about each of his friends, trying to remember their faces and take with himself to his grave, making an eye contact with as many of his friends as he could, and seeing immense tension and dread in their eyes.

Roger de Lacy and Much helped the king to settle in the ground next to Robin. The king's expression was immensely sad, and he took the hand of his favorite in his. Richard lowered his head and trembled all over at the sight of the sand soaked with Robin's blood. It was Robin's fresh blood, the symbol of the salvation of the king's sacred life and of Robin's death.

"Robin," the king said, stroking Robin's hair.

"My liege, you are wounded," Robin asserted.

"I am fine. You will also recover," Richard replied, a wistful expression crossing his face.

Robin shook his head. "No, I won't, and you know that. And this is the reason I have to talk to you."

"Leave," Richard commanded.

As Marian and Guy stepped backwards, Robin clutched the king's hand. "No, we need them for a brief conversation." His eyes were pleading the lion to do as he wished. "Please let them stay."

Richard scowled for an instant, but then his face recovered its neutral expression. "Permission is granted," he permitted. He guessed what Robin wanted to say, and it was not what he wanted to hear, but he also couldn't reject the plea of his beloved friend and half-brother in such a tragic moment.

Guy and Marian shared worried glances. Then they sat down on the sand.

From the corner of the nearby building, Archer watched King Richard sitting on the sand close to Robin, together with Marian and Guy. He thought that he was sleeping. He dreamt of opening his eyes, of being fully awake and aware, and learning that all the time since their departure from Portsmouth and arrival in Acre was a fairy-tale. He didn't wish Robin's death. He blamed himself for not killing Vaisey.

Archer lowered his head. "What have I done?" He buried his face in his hands. "Robin, I am so sorry. You are such a good man, always sharing your wealth with the poor. And what have I done?"

Archer rose to his feet. He shook his head miserably, and, despite himself, he felt tears flood to his eyes. He hated Robin of Locksley for so long. He hated Robin for having everything while he starved after their father had abandoned him. And yet, he loved Robin Hood because the man whom he failed to save gave him an example of unselfish sacrifices. He wasn't playing a game – he wanted to become a better man. His only consolation was that he prevented Vaisey from killing the King of England.

"If I knew how to bring Robin back, I would do that," Archer thought bitterly. "At least I saved King Richard after Robin had been stabbed. Robin's sacrifice wouldn't be pointless."

§§§

A murderous silence descended upon the courtyard in Imuiz, punctuated only by the muffled cries of the people who watched Robin of Locksley's tragic demise. The silence awoke the terrible sense of dread growing in everyone's hearts as they waited for the inevitable outcome of the day in Imuiz – Robin's untimely and undeserved death.

"Robin," the king called.

"Too much blood," Robin muttered to himself. He cringed in revulsion as he cast a sidelong glance at the sand beneath his body.

Marian and Guy were silent, too shocked to say anything. Marian compressed her lips, and after a single look, schooled her shocked expression to neutrality. Guy looked solemn and sullen.

"Robin, I am so sorry," Richard said softly; his gaze wandered sorrowfully to Robin's stomach with a silver scimitar still driven deep in his flesh. "I don't know what to say."

"I have a request, sire," Robin began in a weak voice.

"Robin, tell me what you want," Richard said softly, stroking rhythmically the fingers of Robin's right arm he was holding in his own hand; then he laced their fingers.

Robin blinked, then stared at the king. "My liege, I beseech you to pardon Guy of Gisborne. Although he came to Acre with the sheriff of Nottingham and used to be one of the Black Knights, he said that he didn't want to kill you. I believe that he deserves a chance to live another life as a different man." He broke off, a vulnerable expression crossing his face. "Please give him back the Gisborne lands that were included in my estates so many years ago."

Guy thought that he had gone mad from the pain and exhaustion which were tormenting every fibre of his body. A world of feelings flashed across his face: surprise, amazement, disbelief, admiration, happiness – but only for an instant. Then he looked only surprised.

Marian stared at Robin with open admiration in her eyes. Never had she anticipated that on his deathbed Robin would ask the king to pardon Guy of all the people, his sworn enemy.

The king scowled. "Robin, Gisborne tried to kill me before. I told you that I cannot–"

Robin cut his liege off sharply. "Sire, you cannot execute Guy of Gisborne! You just cannot do that!" he stated passionately. "Tell Gisborne the truth. He deserves to know everything. He must know what happened so many years ago and almost destroyed our lives."

"You know that I cannot do that, Robin," the lion protested.

"You can and you will," Robin countered. "Pardon him for me."

Richard placed his hands on Robin's shoulders. "I am sorry, Robin, but I cannot," he reiterated.

Robin gave the king a fierce glare. "Sire, I fought the pointless war in these lands for my king and for England, not because I wanted to fight here. I killed hundreds of the Saracens for you, milord, not for God and for the liberation of Jerusalem. You know very well that my opinion about the Saracens and the holy war changed on the third year of the Crusade."

"Robin, please stop," the lion admonished. A dark shadow crossed his face, and he stiffened, flung up his chin and stared very deliberately at Guy, who averted his gaze. Then he looked back at Robin.

"I beg your pardon, but I cannot stop, milord. I have little time left to talk," Robin countered, looking into the lion's eyes. "Sire, you gave me so much love and affection throughout these long years, and I have always returned this affection as much as it is considered possible and appropriate between the king and his subject. I saved your life many times, and eventually I gave my life for you today."

"My dear Robin, your loyalty and friendship mean everything to me," King Richard declared in a voice tight with deep emotion, his hand gripping Robin's firmly as a gesture of affection.

"Then, milord, why are so unwilling to grant my last request?" Robin insisted. "You know that it is the right thing to do under our particular circumstances."

Guy stared at Robin uncomprehendingly. He was puzzled beyond measure. Never had he expected that Robin of Locksley, his childhood nemesis and the man whom he hated so much, would ever ask the king to pardon him. His heart overflowing with mingled admiration and bewilderment, he looked between the king and Robin, his mind swiftly racing through thousands of explanations for what was happening and why, but still arriving at the dead end. Guy remembered Robin's words about his relationship with the king, but he didn't want to believe them.

"I will pardon Gisborne," Richard conceded after a long, tense pause, somewhat reluctantly, holding on to his temper with an effort. "I will do that _for you and only for you_, my brave and ever-loyal Robin."

"Thank you," Robin said sweetly, smiling faintly at the king. "You will tell him the truth, won't you?"

"I will do that," Richard pledged, albeit reluctantly. He couldn't refuse Robin's plea on deathbed; he just couldn't. "You have my word."

Robin smiled. "Thank you, milord."

Marian and Guy got to their feet and left as King Richard chased them away by a sweep of his hand. He had to spend some time with his beloved Robin, his friend and half-brother, whom death threatened to take away from the world and from him so soon. A brother… It was the word Richard Plantagenet had dreaded to use during his whole life, and he could have used it only relative to Robin.

"You saved my life." Richard's face clouded with pain as he looked at his dying half-brother.

"I did." Robin chuckled.

The king looked very guilty. "I will never be able to repay all my debt to you for everything you did for England and me. I would have been dead without you a long time ago." His voice grew strained. "I am alive now only because you threw yourself between Lord Vaisey's blade and me."

Robin smiled. "I would have died three thousand deaths for you, milord, but I have only one life."

"And you gave your life for me," the lion said sorrowfully.

"For England and for you," Robin amended. "And I am glad that I am dying for you." With his eyes glittering, he smiled vaguely. "I have always loved you, sire, even when I didn't know the truth about our relationship. Now I love you even more. I regret that we don't have much time left."

"I love you very much, too." Richard brushed a strand of sandy-colored hair from Robin's eye and ran a finger along the top of Robin's forehead. "You are the only brother who loves me for who I am and despite… all my faults and failures."

"I do love you in spite of our disagreements. And I am happy that I learnt the truth before my death," Robin said in a quieter voice. "The Black Knights… are dangerous, and England needs you," He added, jumping to another important subject.

The king looked distressed for an instant. "The Black Knights will be punished."

"Tell Melisende that I am _very, very fond of her_," Robin murmured, tears forming in his pale blue eyes. "Tell her… that I would love to spend more time with her if I could. I would love to see her now, but we don't have time." His heart twisted inside his chest as he spoke; he barely tolerated pain, wishing only to die and be free from the burdens of the world and his life. "I… could fall in love with Melisende over time. I… really could. Maybe I am already in love with her." His voice was cracking.

The lion squeezed his hand. "I will tell her."

Arrow-shaped murky clouds scurried across the blue sky above the sea and a little above the port of Acre, and only some rays of the hot sun broke through the clouds. The air was filled with muffled sobs, the roaring gurgle of the nearby fountain, and the dust particles that were brought with a rising wind.

Robin called Much, Allan, Will, Djaq, and Roger de Lacy to himself. De Lacy noticed that Archer had disappeared and was not in the courtyard; he wondered where the man had gone, but he had more urgent issues on agenda – to say farewell words to his dear Robin.

Much looked at Robin, his heart almost collapsing in pain. He felt as if his world were expanding and growing, and then crumbling around him. He didn't join the group of Robin's friends and companions to say farewell words to Robin. He wished to stay with Robin after everyone was gone, and only then to talk to his beloved former master, his most precious and beloved man in the world. He wanted to hold Robin's hand in his own hand when Robin would draw his last breath.

Robin thanked everyone for the time their spent protecting the king and wished them happiness in their lives, even if his words might have sounded trivial.

Roger de Lacy settled on the sand, next to Robin. "Robin, I cannot believe that it is happening… I have always loved you so much, my dear friend," he said, his voice edged with sadness.

"I love you, too, my Roger." Robin drew a shallow breath. "I remember a young dark-haired boy who once taught me to play chess. I liked his mischievous and challenging ways from the first minute I met him. " He smiled. "You have changed so little since then."

Roger's eyes filled with tears, and he brushed them away ruthlessly. "And you were a fast learner and were soon able to match me in any game."

"Roger, tell Robert… that I died proud that I have known you and him, all our friends, and that I fought alongside you," Robin said, his voice trembling, tears shining in his eyes.

De Lacy squeezed Robin's hand. "I am proud of our friendship."

"You are a good friend, Roger," Robin retorted, letting out a small laugh escape his lips.

Roger smiled. "My friend, my Robin, I will miss you… so much." A spasm of pain crossed his face. "I cannot imagine the world without you, our little bird."

"I will miss you, too." Robin let out a chocked laugh, but he winced in pain, clenching his entire being to endure pain. "Roger, tell Robert that this time I will be unable to hold on my promise and bewitch him, making him a little bird like me." He grimaced in pain. "And tell Robert that I love him and that he is like my second half, for he was like me in many ways and always saw through me."

Roger let out a lugubrious smile. "I will do that, my friend." He stood up from the sand, and glared at Guy of Gisborne with ferocious hatred. He also gave Marian a contemptuous look.

"You, I liked," Little John said. It was short and simple, but meaningful.

"Robin, you are a great man. There are no words to describe what you have done for your king, for England, and for all of us. We will never forget you," Djaq said, tears trickling down her cheeks.

"Robin, you have always been my hero, when you were very young and after you came back from the war," Will confessed. "I have always wanted to be like you. I will never forget you."

"Don't exaggerate. I could have done a lot more, but I don't have time," Robin said lightly. "I just danced with death for too long, and today I wasn't able to cheat it."

"Robin, I… don't know what to say. I am gonna apologize for what I did," Allan said humbly.

"Of course, I forgive you, Allan, but you also must forgive yourself," Robin said with a weak smile. "Just remember that there are no innocent lies and betrayals, Allan."

"We all will miss you." Will's eyes glistened with unshed tears.

Robin sighed. "You will have no time to miss me. Life will go on without me."

"Thank you, Hood," Guy of Gisborne, his eyes shyly meeting Robin's.

A faint, rueful smile curved Robin's mouth. "Well, it is quite an achievement to hear the words of gratitude from you, Gisborne."

Guy glanced away. "I am aware that I owe you a tremendous debt of gratitude," he acknowledged.

Robin flashed a crooked grin. "Well, gratitude is not a sickness suffered by dogs. Keep a green tree in your heart and perhaps a singing bird will come."

Guy almost blushed, and a reluctant small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He was impressed with Robin's courage in the eyes of death. "Always dryly humorous."

"Naturally." His face suddenly very serious, Robin stared up at Gisborne, then at Marian. "Take care of Marian, Gisborne, whatever happens between the two of you. Don't let the sheriff kill her."

"I will protect her," Guy pledged; he noticed that blood again started pouring out of his wounds.

"Robin, I am so sorry." Marian again felt the sting of tears in her eyes, and she hastily wiped them away; there was a quaver in her voice.

A tender smile on his face, Robin looked at Marian. "It is alright. Just remember me."

"Always," Marian whispered.

Robin crooked one eyebrow upward. "Then a little bird may fly away with a free conscience."

Marian mastered a small smile at his last witty barb, and then an inexplicable storm of tears assaulted her. Guy averted his gaze; he was jealous to Robin, despite the fact that his rival was on his deathbed.

They exchanged a couple of more farewell words with Robin of Locksley. Soon only Much and King Richard stayed near the dying Robin. The others respectfully stepped aside at Robin's request.

Much settled on the sand next to Robin; an exasperating mist of tears made his bent head just a blur. He looked distressed and absolutely heartbroken. Robin was everything he loved and worshipped in his life. He was not only Much's former master, but his brother and his best friend. It didn't matter that Robin hadn't always treated Much as his equal. It didn't matter that Robin's callous attitude often hurt him. Much wanted Robin to live and be happy; he didn't know how he would live without Robin.

"Master… Robin…" Much stuttered. "You cannot die! I love you too much to ever let you go!"

"This is fine, Much. I told you today that I feel my life has reached a logical end, and I was right," Robin said quietly; his eyes were foggy, he blinked. "My mission is over."

"Oh, Robin, please don't leave me! I cannot live without you! I need you as I need air to breathe! I will die without you! You mean everything to me! I love you so much! I love you more than everyone and everything else!" Unable to speak for the knot of tears blocking his own throat, Much trailed off.

"Much, my dear Much, you are my best friend," Robin breathed ecstatically, a dazzling smile on his pale face. "I will always be in your heart, with you, Much. You won't die without me."

"Robin… Robin…" King Richard was shaking his head, in sheer shock.

"Much, I love you. Always remember that," Robin whispered, struggling to ignore his pain.

"Oh, Robin! Don't leave me!" Much sobbed, through an inexplicable storm of tears.

Richard took his brother's hand gently but firmly, and Robin squeezed it as a last gesture of affection for the king. "Sire, tell her that I regret we didn't have more time to talk. I blame her for nothing," he said honestly, glancing straight into the king's eye.

The king nodded, understanding that Robin meant Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine. "I will," he pledged.

"Don't forget me, sire," Robin told the king.

"Never, Robin," Richard said. Unshed tears stood in his eyes; his control had nearly slipped away.

Robin lifted his eyes and stared at the sky. "I have forgotten how beautiful the sky is." He moaned and gnashed his teeth as a wave of pain shot through his lower abdomen. He already wanted to die at least not to feel pain that was too great to endure; he no longer had strength to bear it nobly.

For a moment, Robin's mind drifted back to the engagement ring which he had given Marian on the date of their first proposal; it was a gorgeous silver ring with the massive sapphire center carved in the shape of a flower and three small oval cut diamonds set around the sapphire. He still didn't forget Marian, and he kept this ring in the inner pocket of his Crusader tunic. He also wore a great golden ring with a large amethyst in the center, which was surrounded by ten small diamonds; it was his wedding ring. He was ready laugh at the irony of the situation: he would die wearing two rings in different parts of his body and he would be buried with them, and that thought strangely pleased him.

Robin reached out his blood-soaked fingers for his own scimitar. His hand found the hilt of the sword, and his eyes met Richard's. Staring into Richard's eyes, he pulled out the sword, arching his back and crying out in pain. His grip on scimitar loosened, and the sword slipped from his arm to the sand. Robin's right hand found the lion's arm and squeezed it, and Much grabbed his left hand.

"Shhh," the king said, stroking the beautiful mane of impishly cut sandy blonde hair.

Robin sighed. A light, almost airy smile of relief spread across his features, and Robin glanced at the king and then at Much, giving them his most charming smile, a farewell smile. His eyes registered the look of love and sorrow on their faces, and he smiled again. He could feel the music of death in his blood and in his chest, the beating of the drums in his ears dictating the throb of his heart, and then a strange disorientation struck him as his vision began to blur and then clear again.

Robin gasped for air, and his heart soared. His pale blue eyes were almost limpid, as bright and blue as the cloudless sky. "That's better. I am free," he murmured.

His heart collapsed, and Robin shut his eyes. Shallow breathing and the deadening gloom seemed to deepen around him, and a thrill of fear ran through him. Then everything was shrouded in the inky darkness, and he went still, very still.

"Robin? Robin?" Much called, craving to hear his friend's answer, but Robin was silent.

Richard brushed away a tear that trickled down his cheek. He bowed his head, respectfully and as a sign of deep sorrow. "Robin is gone," he said in a hollow voice.

Much shook his head. "No, no, no!" He didn't want to accept the fact of Robin's death.

"He is gone," the king repeated, feeling tears in the corners of his eyes.

"No," Much whispered; he was almost ready to abandon himself to maniacal sobs of grief.

"The reward for everything good Robin did in his life is eternal peace and happiness in Heaven." The king planted a parental kiss on Robin's forehead, so he could cast a sorrowful glance at the man who had courageously saved his life and whom he loved so much.

As darkness swallowed him, Robin felt the ground beneath him trembling. His heart stopped beating. He didn't breathe. He was dead. He felt strange vibrations seeping through his heart and into his bones, quivering his soul into an ecstasy of relief from dying. The pain in his stomach evaporated as if it had never existed, and he felt as if he were plunging into some kind of oblivion, slowly losing vital strength but gaining the blessed sensations of special grace and peace in his heart.

Robin's entire world was filled with the light that was growing stronger, coalescing into spheres. It was the last eruption of his dying brain, but it was still strange as he clearly saw everything around him illuminated in the light of the ever – the light of Heaven. Robin felt a gentle glow of light on his skin, and he could see something moving in the rays of that light – the dim shapes of someone's figure. Then someone talked to him, and the visions in his mind began shifting and changing, as the images of the past flickered in his mind. Robin watched his past and listened to the voice, and the light was growing stronger and brighter. A new burst of light flashed in his brain, and all at once, everything around him was ablaze with sparkling and changing images.

But inky darkness was swirling around Robin with a hellish persistence, as if the world were being closed off in darkness around him. Still, the dazzling fragments, the scintillating shards of dream, flew at him, piercing his senses, embedding themselves deeply into his perception. But darkness was swiftly enveloping him, and he was defenseless before that onslaught. Robin surrendered to the dizzying torrent, drowning in the onrushing flood of emptiness and void, falling deeper and deeper into darkness with no end. He felt nothing more. He tumbled into a dark abyss.

Everything in Imuiz seemed peaceful, as if there were no wars, no bloodshed, and no terror. Yet death stalked Robin, taking him away from his king, his friends, from the world, and from the Holy Land. Like a little bird flying from one place to another with change of seasons, Robin was everywhere and nowhere all at once, engaging himself in a beautiful and lethal dance of death and leaving everyone behind. Whimsical, sustained rhythms of fatality were spreading in the air, as if all Gods of Olympus were playing on their harps and singing an ancient mournful song in the hero's memory and honor.

Marian again dissolved into in tears. Her cheeks were streaked with tears, her hair hanging loose around her shoulders. "Robin didn't deserve to die. He should have lived a long and happy life."

"The world is unfair," Guy said, with rare prescience.

Guy gently took Marian in his arms and let her cry, holding her against his chest. Her arms embraced him, but she was careful, knowing that he had been injured today. Oddly, it brought Guy his own sense of calm; in her grief with Robin's death, he saw a piece of himself, for he felt strangely at peace with his sworn enemy whom he had hated for so long, but whom he couldn't bring himself to hate after Robin's noble actions right before the hero's death.

Everyone bowed their heads in deep respect to Robin of Locksley and his selfless sacrifice for the king and England. Much again broke into loud, heartrending sobs and sank to his knees. King Richard stared numbly at Robin, his eyes suddenly shimmering with unshed tears.

Grief-stricken and exhausted, the king and his companions merely stood with bowed heads, welcoming the black numbness offered by a short minute of break between battles. Their grief was overpowering, the scene of Robin's death etched in their memory until doomsday.

§§§

A heart-searing scream of pain and anguish gushed from the very depths of Marian's soul. She was looking at Robin's lifeless form, hot tears of sorrow, shame, and despair flowing from her eyes. Tears blinding her, she disentwined herself from Guy's embrace, and he let her go. She sank slowly on the sand, her head inclined, the skirts of her white gown soiled with Robin's blood. She knew that she would live every day of her life with the memory of Robin's tragic death that was engraved in her mind forever. She was entirely broken, as if she had lost everything when Robin had drawn his last breath.

Much approached Marian and sat down next to her. He didn't feel as close to her as he had felt when she had been Robin's friend and fiancée, but he anyway felt closer to her than to anyone else in the courtyard. After all, they had known each other for many years; they had grown up together.

"It is so unfair. Robin didn't deserve to die at twenty six," Marian began, looking at Much.

Much swallowed his sobs. "I cannot believe that Robin is dead. I just cannot."

"And neither can I," Marian retorted as she turned her tear-stained face to the man.

"When we fought here, in the Holy Land, and when we lived in Sherwood, I always wanted to protect Robin. I was ready to die myself if it meant that he would live. I would gladly give my life for him, but now I cannot do that." He stared at Marian with a profoundly grave glance, his heart splintering into tiny shards. "I failed Robin. I didn't save him from the sheriff. I failed my mission to keep him safe."

She shook her head. "It is not your fault, Much."

Guy stood behind Much and Marian. He heard every world they uttered, but he didn't intrude, thinking that Marian and Much needed some time to share grief over Robin's death. After all, Much and Marian were the people whom Robin had loved most of all in his life and who had probably known him much better than anyone else. Guy frequently intercepted Much's hateful glances, and he was conscious of faint touch of foreboding that he would have to face the man's wrath and hatred rather soon.

"I must have been here, in the courtyard!" Much roared in anger, his look pitiful, his blue eyes brimming with tears, his features deathly pale. "I must have saved him! I must have killed the sheriff before he could kill the best and greatest man of all people in the world!"

"Don't blame yourself. Robin wouldn't want you to think that you failed him," Marian soothed.

"Robin... made this world better," Much whimpered. "Life will never be the same without him."

"Robin will always be in our hearts." Fresh rears filled her eyes, and she blinked them away.

"Even in your heart?" Much asked, a shadow of doubt creeping into his voice.

"We know each other very well. You and I knew Robin for so long. We are feeling the great pain for the loss of Robin." Marian's voice was thick and it was clear she again was on the verge of sobbing, trying to keep emotions at bay. "You understand my pain and I understand yours."

Much's mouth tightened. "I wonder whether you, my lady, indeed suffer as much as it appears to be." He scrambled to his feet. He lingered his chilly gaze at Marian, then walked away.

Marian was still sitting on the sand. Her conversation with Much, who despised her, was the last straw. She was sliding into abysmal despair. She cupped her face and let herself weep, not caring that someone else could see her emotional breakdown. Guy watched Marian with bated breath; he longed to hug her, but he knew that she wouldn't accept his help and support now.

Guy turned his head and ran his eyes over the courtyard, instantly his gaze falling on King Richard, who continued sitting near Robin's lifeless body; the monarch's head was bowed, his eyes focused on Robin's peaceful face. The other participants of dramatic events were waiting in the other side of the square. The king was wounded and needed urgent medical help, but the grieving monarch obviously demanded to have some more time with Robin. The lion simply sat next to Robin, holding Robin's hand in his, his eyes focused on Robin's peaceful face, his expression impenetrable, for Richard was a master of hiding his true feelings, but even now the man found it difficult to do that.

The involuntary tears came into Guy's steel blue eyes, and he felt the faintly graying darkness filling his heart. What hurt him was not only the acute pain in his shoulder he was tolerating: he was more hurt by the feeling that he didn't stop Vaisey in time. He touched his shoulder, then glanced down at his hand that was completely red; feeling dizzy again, he sank onto the sand.

"Hey, mate, how are you?" Allan said behind Guy's back.

Guy turned his gaze at the young blonde man. "As good as it is possible."

Allan eyed Guy, his gaze anxious. "Isabella wounded you."

"Yes, she did."

"You need a doctor. Maybe Djaq will examine you later."

"I don't need anyone's help." Guy pressed his hand on his wounds again, trying to stop the bleeding.

Allan seated himself on the sand next to Guy. "You already look weak, Guy. Most likely, you will contract a fever soon."

"It is not your deal, Allan. You are no longer my man," Guy snapped rudely. "You ran away from me in the night. I gave you everything, but you betrayed me."

Allan looked uncomfortable. "I am not gonna defend myself. I escaped from Nottingham to warn Roger de Lacy and save the king," he supplied. "I couldn't kill King Richard. It is beyond what I can do."

"The king is safe, Allan."

"King Richard is alive, but Robin is dead." His eyes filled with compassion, and Allan looked at Guy almost pleadingly. "Guy, I didn't want to hurt you. I have grown quite fond of you."

There was a mirthless chuckle from Gisborne. "I trusted you, Allan, but you betrayed me and ran to Robin Hood's friend – to Roger de Lacy. Marian betrayed me to Hood. Everyone betrays me to Hood."

"I had betrayed Robin before I betrayed you as you are willing to put it," Allan flung at him. "And is it a betrayal if I did the right thing not out of greed, but out of honor?"

Gisborne averted his gaze. "Allan, leave."

"Guy, your problem is that you cannot accept your own faults," Allan snapped. "Marian was right. You are a good man, but you were lost on the wrong road, and I was lost with you."

"And where will you be now?"

"On the right road, Guy. I will swear fealty to King Richard, and I will do what he orders."

Guy smirked. "A liar and a traitor is finally trying to leave the past behind and become a better man?"

"I might be a liar and a thief, but I couldn't let the sheriff and you kill the king. And I felt so guilty of betraying my friends. I am glad that I am on the right side again." Allan ran his eyes over the courtyard, focusing at the king who still sat near Robin. "Look, mate, King Richard is heartbroken. Our king clearly loves Robin. This is not funny. This scene must have never happened."

Guy and Allan swung their gazes to the king, who had just dismissed Djaq; the young Saracen was worried for the wounded monarch, but his wound was not what the king was thinking of. Then Roger de Lacy came and whispered something to Richard; the lion nodded, and de Lacy took several steps aside from his liege and his dead friend. King Richard was completely devastated, the intensity of his grief almost leaving him cataleptic, as if he were walking through a dream, so that he was unable to leave Robin's side, hoping that Robin would suddenly awake.

"King Richard is an unusual man," Guy opined. "Obviously, he loves Robin Hood."

Allan smirked darkly. "Mate, you think he only loves him? Looks like he worships his beloved Robin!"

"Maybe," Guy said dryly. "After all, Hood saved the king's life many times."

"I was annoyed when Robin bragged about his friendship with the king. I didn't understand Robin's unconditional loyalty and passionate devotion to the king. But now I understand," Allan commented.

Guy and Allan were silent. They watched Roger de Lacy again kneeling on the sand beside the king and Robin. King Richard finally agreed to leave Robin and allowed de Lacy to help him to get to his feet. Unexpectedly, Richard looked ahead with tiny, barely noticeable tears in his eyes, and his eyes met Guy's troubled orbs. Guy could swear that he saw pure contempt mingled with something else in the king's blue eyes; he guessed the lion would have wished Guy to die instead of Robin. This was the most frightening moment he could remember in many long years.

Everyone was simply too overwhelmed with grief to pay attention to what was going on around them. The wind was strengthening and numerous tiny particles of dust were flying in the air. From the side of the desert, the heavy sandstorm was gradually approaching Imuiz and Acre.

The distant noise came nearer with every minute, recognizable enough as the metallic jingle of harness, accompanied by the solid thump of heavy hooves on the soft ground. Then came a hubbub of voices, Norman-French and English, and a small army of the Crusaders emerged in a distance. The party of the king's men was headed by the young, dark-haired knight and the cooper-haired young lady; they were Sir Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, and Lady Melisende Plantagenet, Countess de Bordeaux in her own right and Countess of Huntingdon by her marriage to Robin.

They stopped in the middle of the courtyard, their gazes briefly lingering on the people in the middle of the square and then falling at the king and Much, who still were close to Robin's body. Instead of the king, now Much was leaning over his friend's body, sobbing uncontrollably; Much's white Crusader tunic was bloodstained with Robin's blood, the sun glinting across its blood-red surface. Richard stood in a few steps from where Robin lay; he was supported by de Lacy and Little John.

The Crusaders dismounted and kicked their horses forward to make room for the party of other men who followed them in Imuiz from the Crusaders' camp to ascertain that the king was under protection. All the eyes were attached to the king, Much, and Robin of Locksley, as the realization of the tragedy was slowly sinking into everyone's heads.

"Oh my Lord! No, no…" the Earl of Leicester murmured in shock. His expression was shocked, but his eyes were shooting daggers; he was furious. "Damn Sheriff Vaisey! Damn the Black Knights!"

Melisende clutched Robert's hand. "Robert, tell me is that… Robin?" She stammered, her heart sinking into her throat as the horrible suspicious crept into her mind.

"I fear we are… too late," Leicester barely managed to say, his face turning ashen, his pale green eyes glassy. Tears stung his eyes, and he was fighting with his emotion not to break into sobs right away.

Marian looked attentively at the young lady with red-gold hair and classical facial features. She found the lady extraordinarily beautiful in her snowy muslin gown with airy silk sleeves, cut low enough to be considered indecent, which seemed to have been designed to reveal more than it should be concealed and enhance the splendor of a gorgeous jewelry set of amethysts necklace that adorned her bosom. Then Marian remarked that the lady had the hair of the same color as the king had. With the sickening feeling of pain in her heart, she realized that the other woman was Robin's new wife.

Melisende turned her gaze at Marian, and her violet eyes locked with Marian's. Her expression was terrified, tears glistening in her eyes. "Robin… is he…?" She couldn't say that aloud.

"I am so sorry," Marian said, staring into the depths of the other lady's eyes of a rare violet color.

For an instant, the two ladies shared their grief, but then Marian turned her head slightly away to avoid Melisende's gaze. She saw that the grief swept over Robin's wife, and it was difficult enough for her to share her own grief with the woman married to her former betrothed. She couldn't do that without the complication of her own emotions – her old feelings for Robin and the memories of Robin and herself, which whirled in her mind and must have had no bearing now, but still had.

With a thundering heart, Marian witnessed as Melisende slowly walked to Robin and sink down, onto the sand, her head falling against Robin's shoulder.

The sounds of muffled female cries sliced the air: Melisende couldn't restrain herself, and a wave of tears effused from her eyes, and she broke into a storm of tumultuous sobbing. Her body was shaking as her cries of pain and agony rang out, echoing Much's violent sobbing.

King Richard took a step to the place where Melisende had just settled. "Robin heroically saved my life," he announced quietly. "He sacrificed himself to save England and the king."

"He was a hero, always a hero," Melisende whispered through the tears.

Tears came to the king's eyes, and Richard brushed them away, hastily, not to let all the others see them. "It is my fault. I should have done many things differently today. I should have never gone to the meeting with Saladin's imposter in the desert."

Melisende raised her eyes to face the king, her cousin. "Richard, don't say that. It is not your fault." Her body trembled hard. "Promise me that the murderer will pay."

The lion nodded. "I swear the Black Knights will pay. I will spill their treacherous blood in revenge for his death." He spoke with the full severity of the one who had power and willingness to take lives and punish mortals for their wickedness.

"Who… killed Robin?" The Earl of Leicester approached the king, his eyes at his deceased friend. He was numb with grief no less than Richard and Melisende because Robin was his best friend.

"Sheriff Vaisey of Nottingham! I hate him! I hate him! I want him dead!" Much seethed with hatred.

"I should have killed the sheriff when I was in England," de Lacy hissed as he appeared next to Robin. His heart was in tatters as he watched his dead friend, the distraught Much, and Robin's sobbing wife.

"I swear Vaisey will pay for all the regicide attempts and for Robin's death," Richard vowed, his voice deadly resolute and chilly, freezing to the depths of one's heart. "He will die a very slow and painful death." He gritted his teeth, his expression revealing murderous rage. "And then he will burn in hell."

§§§

A hubbub of voices evolved into a lethal silence as the Crusaders, their faces wearing saturnine expressions, bowed their heads in respect to Captain Locksley's sacrifice. Some Crusaders, mostly Knights Templar, fell to their knees and began praying for Robin's soul. The sight of Robin's body caused the aching in the hearts of Robin's comrades and the vulnerability in the voices of those who prayed from the bottom of their hearts that Robin would find eternal peace in Heaven.

The Earl of Leicester looked into a distance and released a sequence of rude curses. On the horizon, a plume of dust appeared, and the wind was blowing from the desert. The sandstorm was moving towards Imuiz, threatening to cause chaos in the ruined town and in Acre. They had to leave Imuiz very quickly before great gusts of wind could pick up sand and carry it for miles and miles.

The king looked around, his eyes searching his second savior; then he stared at de Lacy. "Where is the young lad who saved my life after Robin had been wounded?"

De Lacy shrugged merely. "Archer disappeared."

"How strange," the king said shortly. "What about Carter and Edmund?"

"Edmund was killed. Carter is nearly fatally injured," de Lacy informed.

Richard took in a deep, shuddering breath. "It is even worse than I thought."

"Sire, a sandstorm is approaching," Leicester notified.

"Really?" Melisende stared at Leicester, her violet eyes wide with fear.

"Yes." Leicester nodded.

"We have to leave," de Lacy said.

The king acknowledged the words with a stiff little nod. "Prepare everything for our departure." He shook his head as if brushing away a ghostly memory. He groaned as pain shoot through his shoulder. "Take Edmund and… Robin to the Citadel of Acre; we will bury them tomorrow. Take care of Carter."

Leicester sent a sad, compassionate look to the king, then bowed his head. "As you command, milord."

Marian came to Guy, anxious to learn about his health. She saw that Guy was barely able to stand and urgently needed help. Guy still sat on the sand, looking up at her with vacant eyes, and she seated on the sand, but he made no attempt to engulf her in an embrace.

"Sir Guy of Gisborne, it has been ages since we last met," a voice spoke behind their backs.

Guy looked at the intruder; he didn't stand up from the sand. Marian turned, following his gaze, then abruptly rose to her feet. The flame-haired Crusader, his hair a shade lighter than Richard's hair, stood near them; the man looked somber and prick-eared as his eyes scanned the couple near him.

Guy's face lit up with a smile in recognition of the newcomer whom he had once considered his friend, his eyes warm with memories. Marian glanced at Guy, raising a quizzical brow.

Guy was positively ingratiating. "Sir Roger de Tosny, Baron de Conches! I am delighted to meet you."

De Tosny surveyed Guy with a humorless quirk of finely marked brows. "I cannot say that I share your feelings, Guy." He sighed heavily. "Circumstances are too… specific… and very tragic."

"At least we met one another!" Guy enthused.

"I have often remembered you throughout all the years since you left my service in Rouen," de Tosny said, looking down at Guy. "But what I see now is even remotely far from what I would wish to see on the day of our long-awaited meeting."

"I understand." Guy hung his head, staring down at his palm pressed tightly to his shoulder. Trickles of sweat dripped down the side of his face. "Sorry that I am not standing to greet you."

"You are wounded, Guy. How did it happen if you were with Sheriff Vaisey?" De Tosny asked anxiously; he watched Guy grimace in pain and press the palm tighter to the shoulder.

Grief and vulnerability crossed Guy's face, and then blankness masked his emotions. "Isabella… was here with the sheriff; she conspired with him to kill the king. She shot a hail of arrows at me when I tried to stop Vaisey."

"Well, everything is even worse than I thought," de Tosny replied after a short pause, shaking his head in disbelief. "Our doctor will take care of your wound once we get out of here."

Guy was ready to face his fate now. "What will happen to me, then?"

"So Guy won't be executed after Robin spoke for him to the King?" Marian asked hopefully.

"The king ordered to put Guy under a house arrest until further instructions," de Tosny informed.

"Guy didn't want to kill the King! And the king promised to let Guy go!" Marian cried out.

De Tosny nodded, then glanced at Guy. "I know. The king told the Earl of Leicester that he would pardon you, Guy, because Robin asked him about that before his death," he said in a vibrant voice. "Robin was a generous and good man. It grieves me to think that I called him a bloody traitor during our last meeting, when the sheriff's despicable plot falsely exposed Robin, ever-loyal Robin of all people, as a wretched traitor." He looked heavenward for a brief moment, then gazed at Guy. "We could have avoided the tragedy if Robin and Roger were not accused of treason."

"Oh," Guy was only able to say, then lowered his gaze in shame.

"What do you want to say, Sir Roger?" Marian questioned, smoothing a delicate eyebrow.

"Nothing interesting for a lady's ears," de Tosny said coolly as he looked at Marian from top to toe. "Don't interfere when you shouldn't do that."

"I am sorry…" Marian muttered, not understanding for what she apologized. "And… what will happen to Robin now?" A wash of grief swept over her, and her breath caught.

De Tosny gazed into a distance. "We have to leave now. We are taking… Robin's body with us; the funeral will be when the king decides. A sandstorm will be here very soon."

"What a disaster!" Guy held his breath in astonishment.

"Exactly. If we don't leave, we risk being buried under the dust and die from suffocation," de Tosny explained. "I am sorry. I have to leave you now. We will talk later."

Guy attempted to climb to his feet, and he almost succeeded. But the searing, numbing pain rushed through him in the area of his right shoulder, and he staggered backwards. That pain and clouds of blackness were permeated his entire being; his shoulders slumped, and he slid to the ground.

De Tosny and Marian bent down beside Guy. De Tosny took Guy about his shoulders, while Marian wrapped her arm around Guy's back. They saw a pool of blood forming on the sand beneath Guy.

"Hold on, Guy." De Tosny's fingers closed over Guy's shoulder. "We will get you to Acre soon."

"I am again losing blood," Guy muttered.

"You will survive, Guy," Marian promised.

Gisborne heard de Tosny shouting orders to the king's guards. The next pictures Guy was able to see were Marian's worried expression and Roger's large figure towering over him. Then he heard voices of other men, speaking in Norman-French. His vision was blurry, and he was barely able to distinguish that there were three Crusaders standing near them. And then Guy plunged into darkness.

"He passed out," Marian said.

"Yes," de Tosny confirmed. "Carry him to the horse. Try to be careful – he is wounded," he ordered to the king's guards who stood waiting for his command.

The Earl of Leicester and Roger de Lacy helped King Richard to mount his horse; the lion was lightheaded and dizzy, both from his wound and the heartbreak from Robin's murder. De Tosny was charged with guarding Guy and Marian and guided them to their horses. Much kept close to Melisende and Robert de Beaumont as they were walking to their horses and the Crusaders. Everyone hurried to mount and get away from Imuiz, spurring horses forward and heading to Acre in a clatter of hooves.

As his body was drenched in sticky blood, Robin was wrapped into King Richard's own red-and-gold velvet mantle, which the king had removed from himself for his beloved soldier as a sign of his sincere love, profound grief, and deep respect. The body was transported in the end of the Crusaders' convoy, several guards were charged with that task. Robin was placed on the saddle of the horse, but when a young guard wanted to mount the same horse that was supposed to carry Robin's body, a gust of wind came all at once, raising the topsoil off the surface and carrying everything away with it, obliterating even the memory of what had been there before. The horse suddenly bolted and threw the guard off, setting itself into a full gallop in the direction of the open desert, together with Robin's body.

The guards were so frightened that they didn't dare even try to catch the frightened horse with their captain's body. The blind instinct of life preservation prevailed over the sense of their duty to the king to protect Robin's corpse for burial. They chose to leave their captain in the desert and let the horse disappear from their view, trying to save themselves from the sandstorm.

The strong wind blew away everything on its way. Everything seemed to shatter around, strung out in images that caused people's blood to freeze as large plumes of dust rose from the ground and enveloped all the people who still were in the deserted courtyard. All the guards hurried away from Imuiz. They joined all other king's men who had already departed from town. They were ashamed of leaving their captain behind, cursing God for sending the sandstorm exactly at the moment when they were about to depart from the town with Robin's body.

Standing near the wall of the Arabic building that faced the desert, Archer observed the approaching sandstorm, his entire being seized with the morbid sensation under the force of unexpectedly strong emotions he had felt in the light of Robin's death. His eyes caught the sight of the horse with Robin's body as the frightened animal was galloping across the sandy dunes, away from Imuiz and to the unfathomable depths of the desert. He felt his heart beating faster as he realized that the stallion was riding away without a rider and carrying only Robin's corpse.

Archer felt that it was his duty to stop the horse and take Robin's body back to the Crusaders' camp. He ran towards his own horse, mounted and rode at a high speed right into the desert, chasing after the horse with Robin. As he reached the horse, he leaned aside and, with great difficulty and still riding, took the reins, tightening them to stop the animal. Clouds of dust were whirling around him, but Archer cared about nothing, determined to take Robin and deliver him to Acre.

Cursing aloud in Arabic he knew very well, Archer pulled Robin's body off the stallion. As he carefully placed Robin on the sand, he cast a short look at his hands covered with Robin's blood. Then he looked down at Robin, his deceased half-brother, and his heart constricted in his chest; he had failed to save Robin, but at least he found his body after others had left the ghost town. Suddenly, the strong wind blew, bringing the dust from the dry deserts of miles ahead and coating everything and everyone with gritty desert dust. A sensation of dust in his eyes and on his skin brought Archer to his senses, and the strangeness fell away like a discarded cloak. Archer was scared to realize that they had been in the center of the heavy sandstorm and in the empty desert, relatively far from Imuiz and Acre.

"At least you, Robin Hood, are already in heaven after you saved the king, while I am in hell – in the sandstorm in the desert," Archer murmured to himself, his eyes fixed on Robin's pale face.

There was no way Archer could have taken Robin back to Acre. The sandstorm was blowing stronger and stronger, and everything whirled around the young man.

Archer couldn't speak as his mouth and nostrils were nearly clogged, so dry that he was unable even to spit to clear them. Panic swept over him as he thought that he had probably ridden into the desert to face his own death. His entire being was suddenly overwhelmed with terror and dread. There were only the whirling sand and the pandemoniac screaming of the wind around him.

Archer pulled Robin close to himself. Thinking that he would die soon, he hugged Robin closer, as if he were seeking his brother's moral support. "And now I am going to follow you, Robin. Very soon I will join you in Heaven," he mused, and it was his last coherent thought. His head was pounding, his brain was unable to function properly, and then darkness claimed him.

Next time Archer awoke at dusk, with pounding head, dry mouth, and his nostrils almost completely clogged; he discovered that he was breathing with his mouth only. It was very dusty around, and the sky overhead was cloudless. He lay motionless for some time, unable to understand whether he was dead or alive, his heart hammering wildly. He tried to move his hand and then his body, but his muscles were stiff and tense and it seemed for a while that he couldn't move, as if he was tied to something that restricted his mobility.

Then Archer turned his head and saw the sandy-colored head of the man whose body he had wanted to find as he had ridden away from Imuiz into the heart of the sandstorm.

Robin lay next to him on the sand, Robin's face looking heavenward but turned away from Archer. Archer extended his hand and turned the dead man's head to him. Robin looked ghostly pale, his lips were bloodless, and his eyes tightly shut. Robin looked like a dead man, and the peacefulness of Robin's face allayed and simultaneously frightened Archer.

Archer put a hand on Robin's forehead. "Your skin is so hot, Robin Hood," he said to himself in astonishment. He brushed his hand across his own face. "My skin is colder than yours." He raised his eyes to the sinking sun, and then laughed bitterly. "Damn these lands! The sun heats up everyone."

Archer eyed Robin's body, shuddering in horror as his gaze fell on the huge spot of dried blood on Robin's abdomen; Robin's white Crusader tunic was drenched with blood, as if he had drowned in his own blood. Archer thought that if he himself was destined to die in the desert, he would have preferred to be buried with Robin in the same grave, for they were brothers, after all.

"So, I am still alive, eh?" Archer said to himself under his breath. "You look peaceful, brother. I hope you are happy in Heaven. Maybe death is not so awful, is it?" It sounded strange that he spoke to Robin as if the dead man were alive and addressing to the hero as his brother.

Archer lay quiet and motionless, watching the sun well down the sandy slope towards the western horizon. He continued lying there for some time, focusing his mind on the absolute stillness around him, and he knew if he wanted to survive, he had to find a shelter in case the new sandstorm blew in the desert. With a great effort, he lifted himself into a sitting position and looked around, his eyes fixing on a nearby sandy hill with what seemed to be an entrance to a small cave.

He attempted to pull himself up and succeeded in struggling to his feet only on the third attempt. He stood swaying, a sense of dizziness drilling through his mind. He looked at the sandy hill and distinguished the outlines of the cave. He had an idea to leave Robin and save himself while he still had time to escape and hide, but the guilt of serving Vaisey and contributing to Robin's death pressed on Archer. He crouched and gripped Robin's arms, then started dragging Robin's body into the cave, cursing in his mind Sheriff Vaisey and Prince John and the day when he had met Malcolm of Locksley in Constantinople and then had taken an oath of revenge on Robin of Locksley.

"Don't worry, Robin. I am taking you with me," Archer said as he continued dragging Robin in the direction of the cave. "It is not very difficult. You are not heavy at all."

Inside the cave, Archer tumbled to the rocky ground, feeling completely exhausted. Suddenly, he heard the howling sound of the wind. It was a new sandstorm, and he blessed his gumption that told him to find a shelter in the cave. Archer again hugged Robin, covering their faces almost completely to avoid having mouths and nostrils clogged.

In their embrace, Robin's face was pressed to Archer's chest, one of Archer's arms wrapped around Robin's back and the other covering his own face. Archer knew that he might not be able to breathe in such a position, but he feared the sandstorm more. And even dead Robin somehow seemed to be a kind of shelter for Archer. And then Prince John's former assassin was again swallowed in the depths of the churning dust; the darkness overpowered him.

§§§

Guy of Gisborne lay on a large amber-brocade-draped bed, looking at the ceiling of the bedroom. He was half dressed: his chest was bare, one muscled arm under his head, the other positioned next to him, his long legs stretched across the soft sheets. Ten days passed since the regicide attempt in Imuiz, and his wounds in his shoulder were healing well, but it was still painful to move his arm; Marian helped him dress or undress. Guy was partly glad that he could spend some time in solitude, with his thoughts and without the necessity to go somewhere until his injuries healed.

"My life is absolute madness," Guy said to himself as his mind wandered to the recent events in Acre.

After Robin's death and the discovery of the approaching sandstorm, the King of England and others had made their way to the Citadel of Acre and the king's camp on time, and there had been very few guards who had been caught in the sandstorm. On the same evening, the king had contracted a high fever as infection from the injury caused by Vaisey's arrow had been spreading in his body, threatening to take the monarch's life and make Robin's sacrifice even more tragic.

Oddly, Guy's three wounds from Isabella's arrows – two in the same shoulder and one in his forearm – had turned out to be not as serious as the king's only one wound. Yet, Guy had succumbed to a fever on the same evening after the assassination attempt; he had also lost much blood. For several days, Guy had been feverish and unconscious, and his life had been in danger, but not as severe danger as King Richard's life still was. Guy had been placed under a house arrest, but he had been kept in a large chamber in the guest quarters in the Citadel of Acre. Marian, together with a physician, had been allowed to take care of Gisborne. No other visits to the former Black Knight had been permitted.

A heavy dust storm had roared in Acre throughout more than four days, blacking out the sun in a swirling cloud, tearing trees in a squall in every rare oasis, and ruining houses in local villages and towns; the area between Acre and Arsuf had become the most damaged one by the violent environmental disaster. The sandstorm had supposedly killed at least one hundred and fifty people in the regions near the city of Acre and had injured even more people among the Christians and the local population. Count Henry de Champagne, the King of Jerusalem, had ordered to freely give all the civilians respiratory protection measures, mainly masks to filter out small particulates of dust, in order to minimize unnecessary exposure to the sandstorm.

Guy's fever had broken on the fifth day, after the sandstorm had already subsided, whereas the king's illness could still turn deadly, which had forced the king's personal physician to request Djaq's help in treating the king's wound: the knowledge of Richard's experienced physician had turned out to be inferior to Djaq's knowledge of the Saracen medicine. Thanks to Vaisey, the king was locked in the fierce battle with death with an unpredictable outcome, while everyone waited for his fever to break, with bated breath and thundering hearts, praying for Richard's recovery and recuperation.

Marian told Guy that everyone was in the state of trance after the tragic events in Imuiz, in deep mourning for the loss of the two famous warriors – Robin of Locksley, the Earl of Huntingdon, and Edmund of Cranfield, the Earl of Middlesex. It was an extremely rare event when both the head of the private guard and his second-in-command were killed on the same day and in the same battle, saving the king's life, which made the regicide attempt in Imuiz more dramatic for the Crusaders.

Guy wasn't amazed with the news that Sheriff Vaisey and Lady Isabella of Gisborne had escaped from the port of Acre and were apparently on their way to England. Guy knew that the sheriff had prepared in advance the ship in the harbor of Acre to make a quick escape, and he had informed Roger de Tosny about the matter. Yet, Richard's oath of revenge would surely catch them up later, for King Richard always kept his word, whatever it was a word to pardon or to execute, to give a reward or to cause a disgrace. Punishment would just come in a due time, and all Crusaders knew that.

At the order of King Richard, the city of Acre and the Crusader States were officially in deep mourning for Robin of Locksley and for Edmund of Cranfield. The news about Robin's sacrifice had quickly traveled to Jaffa, Tyre, Arsuf, Jerusalem, and across the Holy Land, and everyone was affected by the tragedy. Robin's death was a death of not a mere soldier, but a death of a war hero and an iconic figure, and it brought much grief and sorrow to everyone who knew the heroic Captain Locksley.

The king's men who served in the private guard and in other Guards were in grief over the loss of Robin and Edmund, for the two men were loved and admired by nearly everyone, especially Robin. Robin had never known about that, but he had always inspired not only his men in the king's private guard, but everyone in the king's army. Saladin himself and the Saracen princes, Prince Malik and Prince Al-Afdal, had sent their personal condolences to King Richard.

Guy been placed under a house arrest in the Citadel of Acre after Roger de Tosny had arrested him in Imuiz; Roger had been ordered to keep Vaisey's former henchman under heavy guard. As they had ridden back to Acre, he had already been heavily guarded, but the king's men had treated Guy rather respectfully even in his unconscious state. In the Citadel of Acre, Guy hadn't been thrown in prison and instead had been carried to one of the rooms in the guests' quarters; Richard had commanded to separate Marian from her husband. One of the king's personal physicians had been invited to Guy's chamber to tend to his wounds properly; Marian had been permitted to take care of feverish Guy.

After his awakening, Guy realized that he had still been held prisoner in a separate room in the Citadel of Acre, and only a few people were allowed to visit him. Roger de Tosny didn't speak much to Guy, only answering to his questions and asking what he needed. Guy was surprised to discover that he was still treated respectfully, though the guards cast cold and accusing glances at him and even at Marian who often visited Guy in his temporary prison; the Crusaders were trying to guess why the king had commanded to keep Guy imprisoned but not to execute him for his participation in regicide.

Guy turned his head and examined his surroundings. The chamber was spacious and cozy in a decidedly masculine way. The walls were whitewashed, and heavy amber muslin curtains hung at the windows. Elegantly fashioned walnut furniture was scattered tastefully about the area, and upon the floor lay a vivid Turkish red carpet, sapphire, emerald, and gold tones rioting across it in a bold design. There was also a tiny walnut dressing table with a matching mirror above it, and crammed into a corner was a marble-topped washing stand, with a fine bone china pitcher and bowl there. Guy liked the room and found it convenient and soothing to his low spirits.

He heard the door to his room open, and then turned his head, his eyes meeting Marian's orbs as she entered the chamber. She strode forward, towards the bed, and seated herself on the edge.

For a while, they sat in a silence, looking at one another and not knowing what to say. With a flicker of stark pain in the depths of the faded sapphire eyes, Marian surged to her feet, her dark silken skirts rustling. She slowly went to a high-back chair near the bed and settled there, her eyes fixing at Guy.

"How are you feeling today, Guy?" Marian looked concerned.

"I am much better. Thank you," Guy responded. He lied to her as his body ached all over, though he felt better than before.

"Good."

"How is that man from Hood's gang who was wounded by an arrow?"

She arched a brow. "Do you mean Will?"

"He stood with the young Saracen who was in Hood's gang," he clarified.

"This man is Will, a carpenter from Locksley," Marian confirmed. "He had an arrow wound in his forearm, but it is nothing as compared to your wounds from Isabella's arrows and the king's wound from Vaisey's arrow." Her heart clenched in her chest as she remembered that Robin had once been struck by an arrow in the same place and she had tended to his wounds in Clun in several weeks after his sensational return to Nottingham from the Holy Land; at that moment, she had seen the ugly scar on Robin's left side, the scar from Guy's blade.

"Well, at least this young man is alive."

"Guy, do you need anything?"

"God, I am thirsty! The heat is unbearable!" Guy was always thirsty in the hot climate. He had never known such thirst before. He drank water in gigantic amounts, and the guards laughed at him when he asked to bring him more fresh water. He hated the climate in the Holy Land.

Marian rose to her feet and walked to the table in the corner. She took a cup of water and returned to the bed; she handed Guy the cup, and he drank greedily. "The doctor said that your wounds are healing well," she stated as she sank onto a chair.

Guy passed a hand across his forehead. "I don't care about my left forearm, but it is still very painful to move my right arm."

"I hope in several days it will be better."

"Do you have any news about King Richard?"

"The king's physician and Djaq are with the king now. This is the only thing I know."

"I wonder what the king is going to do with me," Guy said after a long pause.

Marian gazed away, her expression rigid. "Robin asked King Richard to pardon you, and the king gave his word to him. You are imprisoned, but in fact you live like a guest."

"God strike me blind!" Guy burst out impatiently. "The king has absolute power and he can do to me whatever he wants!" He lowered his voice. "I participated in regicide, twice. I almost assassinated him two and a half years ago and tried to kill him ten days ago. Why should he pardon me?"

"Because Robin asked him and he gave his word," Marian said unhesitatingly.

Guy shook his head slowly. "I don't know."

"I know," she asserted.

A few moments later, neat in a white tunic of the Knight Templar, Sir Roger de Tosny entered the room. He nodded at Guy to greet him and bowed to Marian. "King Richard wants to see you both tonight," he began without any preamble.

When he finished speaking, there was silence for several moments. Guy climbed to his feet from the bed and stepped forward, towards de Tosny. Marian also leapt to her feet.

"The king awoke?" Marian questioned.

De Tosny nodded. "Yes, he did. His fever broke in the early morning."

Guy moved his hand, but at the pain in his shoulder, he halted that movement. "He will live?"

"Yes, he will," Roger confirmed.

"Thanks to God!" Marian's face brightened as she was relieved to hear positive news about the king.

"Good," Guy commented briefly.

"Have they… found Robin's body?" Marian was nearly shaking as she spelled out the tormenting question; it took her much effort to control her nerves.

De Tosny coughed, then declared, "No. There is no body and no grave."

A heavy, respectful silence reigned in the chamber as they silently gave the deserved tribute to Robin.

Marian's sapphire eyes burned into Guy, searing his heart. "Robin should be… buried as a hero."

Guy locked his gaze with Marian's and said sympathetically, "Robin Hood deserves a better fate than to be buried under the piles of sand in the desert."

"They are digging everything in Imuiz and in the surrounding areas," Roger supplied in a grave voice. "The king's first order when he awoke was to find Robin's body at any cost."

"I pray they will find… Robin." She couldn't say Robin's corpse, speaking about him as if he were alive.

There was a silence between them, a faint and stoic silence.

His eyes full of extreme anxiety, de Tosny stiffened. "Guy, you should be very careful with King Richard," he said in a low, almost tormented voice. "Now the king's temper is highly volatile, his spirits are very low, and he craves vengeance for Robin's death."

Since the moment the king had emerged from his slumber, his Angevin hellish temper flared up and exploded with unbelievable strength. The king's soldiers believed that their liege's temper could send anyone to death, fearing what the king would do to those who had lost his beloved Robin in the desert.

"A volatile temper?" Marian arched a brow.

"Extremely volatile," de Tosny confirmed. "Richard is very angry. As soon as he learnt that the guards had lost Robin's body in Imuiz due to the sandstorm, he ordered to arrest those unfortunate men." He emitted a sigh. "They were three men from the private guard, and four men from the other Guards."

"And what happened to them?" Marian's forehead creased in worry.

De Tosny's brows drew together the slightest bit. "These guards were executed today, in two hours after their arrest."

"Oh, my God! Poor men!" Marian looked horrified.

"The king executed them on the charge of insubordination, stating that their duty was to deliver Robin to Acre at any cost, even if they had to die in the sandstorm," de Tosny elaborated.

"But they didn't deserve death," Marian objected.

De Tosny shrugged. "It is indeed insubordination because they disregarded the king's order and fled Imuiz, leaving Robin's body behind." His mind wafted to the past – the Saracen raid when Guy had wounded Robin. "When you, Guy, wounded Robin in the Saracen attack, everyone feared to approach the king. Edmund of Cranfield, Robin's second-in-command, had all chances to be executed." He took a deep breath. "After all, on that night half of the night guard was removed by James of Lambton, as we know now. But at that time, the king could have blamed anyone for the fact that Robin, Much, two more guards, and I were almost alone against the band of the assassins."

Guy's eyes flashed with anxiety, and Marian turned to him, her expression perplexed. "The angry king is dangerous," she speculated.

"That's why you have to be cautious," de Tosny replied. "The king has calmed down a little after the executions. Maybe you will be luckier in the afternoon if his spirits don't plummet again."

"I am as good as dead," Guy assumed.

De Tosny shook his head. "You are wrong, Guy. You are safe now, and the king will pardon you."

Guy smirked darkly. "How do you know that the king will pardon me, especially if he wants bloodshed, which is quite understandable?"

"King Richard will pardon you for Robin, because of Robin's deathbed request," Roger de Tosny replied somewhat bitterly, his forehead wrinkled in memory of Robin's demise in Imuiz. "There are many things that can be said about our king, and among them his loyalty to his promises and his generosity to those who serve him well. If Richard gives a word, he keeps it."

"I told you the same, Guy," Marian interjected.

"We will see," Guy said skeptically.

"Guy, today the Countess of Huntingdon demanded your execution," de Tosny reported. "The king had no desire to embark on an argument with Lady Melisende, but she was very persistent, and they eventually quarreled. There was a short and vehement argument, and even the guards heard it."

"And what was the outcome?" Marian asked anxiously.

De Tosny sighed, a sickly smile curving his lips. "Richard refused to execute you, Guy. I know nothing else." His gaze narrowed and something dark and ugly moved in his eyes. "But I have to say that if I were in the king's shoes, I would have been very tempted to have your head, Guy. After all, you tried to kill our king twice, and each time you were somehow stopped by Robin. You certainly knew about the sheriff's vile plan to expose Robin as a traitor, the honest and loyal Captain Locksley of all people."

Guy risked a glance in Roger's direction, and at the sight of the man's accusing expression, his spirit quaked. "I know that I did many wrong things."

Roger measured Guy with a curious look; then he nodded. "I am glad if you understand that, Guy. I am telling you the truth in your interests."

"Ah, God…" Marian's prayer was moaned as she crossed her arms and pressed them tightly to her chest. "Robin could have been alive now if the sheriff hadn't implemented his plan."

Guy couldn't look at his wife. "He could."

"Sheriff Vaisey must possess devilish wickedness if he engineered this damned plan," Roger murmured as his gaze went from Guy's face to the window.

"Vaisey is a cunning devil," Marian hissed.

De Tosny stared at Gisborne. "Guy, when you meet with the king, you must answer to all his questions honestly; you must also confess in all your crimes and admit your faults. I recommend that you show your repentance and obedience to our liege. Don't provoke the king and choose your words carefully."

"I will be cautious." Guy feared to have an audience with the king.

"Guy, I vouched to the king for you, and I can do nothing else." de Tosny informed. "I told Richard that you will never try to kill him again, but I am not sure that it would work. The king listens to me, but he had been so resolute to execute you before Robin pleaded for you on deathbed."

The raven-haired young man smiled. "Thank you, Roger."

De Tosny's eyed Guy wearily. "I also hope that now you will stop hating Robin. You owe him a lot. I am sure that if he hadn't pleaded the king to spare your life, you would have already been dead."

Guy ran a hand through his black hair. "I cannot deny that I… owe Robin Hood." His voice was neutral, but his eyes were full of sincerity, also revealing a twinge of guilt that passed through him.

"Great," de Tosny said. "I also advise that you wear something in dark colors, like everyone is doing now. The king himself is wearing black tunic today."

Guy looked baffled. "I have only my black leather clothes here, and I will be dressed in black. But is it so necessary to wear dark colors like Marian is doing?" Truth be told, he wanted to get rid of black leather and all reminders of the time when he had served Vaisey.

"Yes," Marian said.

De Tosny stared at Guy with silent condemnation that changed into displeasure. "Yes, Guy. After all, everyone is mourning for the two heroes – captain of the king's private guard and his second-in-command, Robin and Edmund." He sighed bitterly. "Two chief generals were killed on the same day." Then he bowed, turned on his heel and walked to the door.

"I cannot believe that Robin is dead. I cannot accept his death." Marian stared into the emptiness of the room. She was immensely pale, unhealthy and unnatural; her eyes were dead. "The only consolation is that it was not you who… killed Robin."

"And if I murdered Robin, you would have never forgiven me?" He wanted to know.

Silent and unmoving, Marian gave Guy a long glance. Suddenly, she tensed and frowned, and then she spoke, her expression lugubrious and simultaneously unhesitating. "I would have never forgiven you for the death of the king or for Robin's death. I thank God that you stopped near the line, Guy." She sighed, collecting her thoughts. "But I cannot say that you are not indirectly guilty of Robin's… death."

Guy nodded, knowing what she meant; he had nothing to object to her because she was right. The intense, conflicting sensations assailed him, a mixture of shame and remorse.

Suddenly, they heard the long, immensely sad notes.

_A solis ortu usque ad occidua_

_littora maris planctus pulsat pectora._

_Heu mihi misero!_

Marian was again on the verge of tears. "_From the rising of the sun to the sea-shores where it sets, lamentation beats upon the hearts of men. Alas for me in my misery_," she translated from Latin.

"What is this?" Guy looked bewildered. "Who is playing?"

"_It has been continued since Robin's death_," Marian whispered, tears trickling down her cheeks. "It is _Lament on the Death of Charlemagne_. Blonde de Nesle is singing this poem because King Richard asked to do that in the honor of Robin and because everyone is in mourning."

"_The Planctus Karoli_," Guy said in Latin. "They compare… Robin Hood's death to Charlemagne's death… at King Richard's order."

"They are only singing this because everyone is in grief." Marian brushed away tears. "These romance strophes are… so tragic."

"So tragic," Guy murmured, then shut his eyes.

_Ultra marina agmina tristitia_

_tetigit ingens cum merore nimio._

_Heu mihi misero!_

"_Beyond the ocean-reaches men have been touched by immense sadness and extreme sorrow. Alas for me in my misery_!" This time the new couplet was translated from Latin by Guy.

Silently, they listened to more than fifteen verses of the lament before the last sounded.

_In sancta sede cum tuis apostolis_

_suscipe pium, o tu Christe, Robin Hood!_

_Heu mihi misero!_

"_O Christ, receive into your holy dwelling among your apostles Robin Hood! Alas for me in my misery!_" At the last notes of the melody, Marian dissolved into tears.

Looking at Marian, Guy didn't know what to say because every word about Robin Hood brought echoes of monstrous pain for all of them. And so he was silent, unable to speak and absorbed in his thoughts.

Since the day of Robin's tragic death in Imuiz, Guy thought about the King of England a great deal. He had never seen the man in the daylight, for their first meeting had happened more than two years ago in Acre when Guy had almost murdered Richard. After the unsuccessful regicide attempt in Imuiz, the king suddenly became a man in flesh and blood – he no longer was the absent King who abandoned his country to fight in the foreign wars. The king no longer was a sleeping form on the bed, above whose body Guy had once stood with a raised sword, hesitating to make a fatal blow. Guy saw the king and heard him talking to his beloved Robin about his pardon, but Richard hadn't talked to Guy at that time. King Richard became the very man who could have executed Guy or spared his life.

Robin begged the King of England to pardon Guy, and the man in black leather was blown away. Guy could still hear Robin's words that Richard was his brother, which shocked him to the core and were still ringing in his ears. Guy knew about Ghislane's scandalous love affair with King Henry, but he had always thought that he was Roger's son. The words about Guy's mystical blood connection with Richard had become the quintessence of their dramatic conversation in the courtyard when Vaisey had been trying to force Robin and Guy to kill the king if they had wanted to save Marian. Moreover, Robin also assured that Guy hadn't known everything; he was puzzled with what Robin meant.

As he had watched the conversation between Robin Hood and King Richard, Guy had admitted to himself, with bitterness, that he had envied Robin and Richard. Richard had loved and respected Robin, though they'd apparently had important disagreements even with regards to the Third Crusade. Guy was still stunned that Robin had shared with Richard his true thoughts about the futile nature of the Crusade, which could have been interpreted as an act of treason. Did Richard allow Robin to speak so freely? If he did, why did the king tolerate Robin's mocking and mischief so much and so patiently?

With a heavy heart, Guy admitted to himself that he had misjudged Robin, probably greatly misjudged, on many occasions, which also displeased him in the light of the necessity to acknowledge his own mistakes, which had never been Guy's strong side. He had said many bad things about Robin, wicked and untrue things. But at that time he had hated Robin with all his heart, and his divine mission had been to re-take everything. Marian had been right that his hatred for Robin had blinded him and had made his judgment unreal.

Guy knew that Robin Hood had pledged his unconditional and utter loyalty to King Richard, and he had always resented Hood for being a blind and selfish royalist, ignoring the king's obvious faults. But on the day of Robin's death, Guy had received the opposite evidence: Robin had mentioned that he hadn't fought with the Saracens for God, but for the king and England, which had been equivalent to officially proclaiming his disagreement with his liege and questioning Richard's decision to fight in the Holy Land. Yet, Robin had always defended the king before everyone else and the whole world. Only now Guy realized that Robin had never allowed anyone to criticize Richard not only because of his blind, almost fatal loyalty to the king, but mainly because of their mutual deep affection for each another.

Guy was impressed with that the depth of the mutual affection between King Richard and Robin. The king and his captain were old and real friends, for they had clearly cleared about each other. He dared not assume that there was something physical in their relationship, as wicked tongues continuously spoke about Richard bedding his favorites. By the outward look of it, Robin didn't appear to be carnally interested in Richard as a lover and neither was the king in his captain. Yet, Guy believed that he had seen something else between the king and his most loyal subject, something beyond affection, respect, tenderness or friendship, but it definitely wasn't their supposed wanton affair.

Curiously, Robin's close relationship with King Richard was similar to Guy's own relationship with Sheriff Vaisey in quite many aspects. They knew each other for a long time and since early youth, and the king and the sheriff mentored Robin and Guy, though in very different ways.

Robin's relationship with King Richard represented everything positive Guy didn't have in his twisted arrangement with Sheriff Vaisey. Richard respected and listened to Robin, which was incredible and unimaginable for Guy. Vaisey always reminded him of his failures and didn't really care about Guy's opinion, ordering him to obedient and carry out his commands. King Richard and Robin were affectionate and close friends, while Vaisey and Guy reminded a cruel commander and an obedient soldier. Richard loved and admired Robin, while Vaisey humiliated and insulted Guy.

Besides, the king gave Robin real power by appointing him captain of the private guard and seeking his advice on many matters, while Vaisey preferred to keep Guy as a mere henchman and use as a pawn. Robin was the king's loyal man who fulfilled his liege's commands and who also had considerable influence over the king, which could even sway the monarch's opinion; Guy was treated like an obedient and rightless lapdog. King Richard used Robin's fighting skills at the war and his creative skills to invent war strategies on behalf of England, the king, and, of course, Robin himself, whereas the sheriff mainly sought to use Guy's fighting skills and brutal force, always bouncing off Guy's ideas and always making up his mind by himself.

Guy chuckled at the thought that it had not occurred to him that he could ever allow himself to think of King Richard quite positively, which could have also affected his dealings with the man. Guy believed that if King Richard had treated him in the same way as the lion had treated Robin Hood, he would be sworn his fealty to the king with fierce passion and great pleasure. Now Guy understood why Robin had pledged his unconditional loyalty to King Richard: the monarch was utterly devoted to his grand favorite, and Robin fully reciprocated the king's feelings.

Now the question was what the king would do with him. He recalled what Lady Amicia de Beaumont told him about Richard Plantagenet: "King Richard loves a few but loves deeply and looks after them; he is vengeful and dangerous if the interests of those he loves are harmed. He loves more those who are most talented, most honest, and most loyal. Yet, he loathes those who are most talented and, most importantly, least honest. He is always generous with those who are loyal, both talented and ordinary." Now those words made him tremble in fear.

Gisborne knew that the king despised his wound-be assassin; after all, Guy had tried to kill him twice. It appeared that Richard was a vengeful man who could avenge the deaths of his favorites and relatives with unequalled cruelty. Given that the king loved Robin of Locksley so much, Guy shuddered in terror at the mere thought of his own fate, doubting that the lion would be able to pardon him in spite of Robin's deathbed plea. Yet, Guy began to realize that Richard Plantagenet was very different from the image which many people carried in their minds. Richard seemed to have many invisible layers that were worthy of a higher credit than the image one could form about the monarch at first glance. Guy was unable to predict what the king would do to him.

* * *

><p><em>I hope you truly enjoyed this chapter and the plot.<em>

_So Robin of Locksley dies in Acre as a hero, having sacrificed his life for the life of the king. It was difficult to write Robin's deathbed scene, for he had a great deal to say to King Richard, Marian, and his friends. There is the long-awaited deathbed reconciliation between Guy and Robin, dramatic and emotional, as Robin pleads the king to pardon Guy and have all the mysteries unveiled. I think it was a tragic chapter, wasn't it? What do you think about the plotline? Everyone can start making their own guesses what happened to Robin; you are welcome to share them with me. _

_I used to think that Marian's deathbed scene is quite suspicious and long, but I was entirely wrong. Actually, I consulted with a doctor when I wrote the tragic scene of Robin's death, and I was told that there are some severe abdominal wounds when a patient may survive for quite some time enduring pain unless a weapon is taken out of his/her stomach without having a special kind of surgery performed; there are even cases when a weapon can be removed from abdomen only by surgeons during operation because they cannot do that in any other way as otherwise their patient will die. So Robin in my story and Marian on the show could live until the sword is removed from their stomachs._

_Archer has another role in regicide attempt in Acre. Maybe you have some thoughts what it can be like._

_The Planctus (de obitu) Karoli (Lament on the Death of Charlemagne") is an anonymous medieval song in Latin, a mourning lament, written in accented verse by a Christian monk shortly after Charlemagne's death. The authorship of the lament has been a matter of some dispute._

_There was the beginning of the resolution of the love triangle Robin/Marian/Guy in the previous chapter and in this chapter, and the trend will continue in the next chapters. In the next chapter, Guy meets with King Richard, and the complete resolution of the triangle Robin/King Richard/Guy is finally given._

**_I really ask you – I even beg you – to leave at least a small review to this chapter because I am really worried about this serious and dramatic chapter. I feel very nervous._**

_If you find any typos and/or mistakes here, please let me know about them in a private message. _

_Thank you for reading this chapter. Have a lovely weekend._

_Yours faithfully, Penelope Clemence_


	10. Chapter 9 Mysteries Unveiled

**Chapter 9**

**Mysteries Unveiled**

The sunset was flushing delicate flesh colors above the port of Acre when Roger de Tosny came and accompanied Guy and Marian to King Richard's chambers. They left the room and passed through a long corridor, then descended the stairs and walked through another long corridor.

Finally, they entered a large spacious room, the king's presence chamber. The decorations of the room were devoted to the capture of Jerusalem during the First Crusade. A large tapestry depicting the fall of Jerusalem to the Crusaders in 1099 hung on the far wall. Various scenes from the siege of Jerusalem ran around the edges of the tapestries, framing a larger image that portrayed the Crusaders breaking through the walls and overrunning the holy city.

Marian, Guy, and Roger stood in the corner of the chamber, everyone absorbed in their own thoughts. Suddenly, Much emerged at the doorway; an hour ago, he was invited into the king's private chamber for a private audience with the monarch. Much's features were grief-stricken, his eyes red-trimmed as though he had been weeping for hours. As he spotted Marian and Guy in the room, Much threw them a cold, contemptuous glare and muttered something to himself.

"Much, are you alright?" Marian asked with concern.

Much couldn't repress another scornful look as he stared at Marian. "Are you really interested in my wellbeing, Lady Marian?"

Marian was quiet for a while, and then responded, "I understand that you are distressed, Much." She wanted to avoid an argument with Robin's best friend as Much's mind was obviously clouded by grief.

"I am more than distressed – I am dead inside," Much answered in a trembling voice, when he ceased speaking to swallow rising sobs. "The light of the world is gone because… Robin is dead."

Much was absolutely heartbroken. His life was in tatters. Every time he envisioned the scene of Robin's tragic demise in Imuiz, the monstrous pain slashed through his heart. He blamed himself for his failure to save Robin from Vaisey. He would have given up everything and everyone's life to let Robin live because Robin was everything what Much loved and worshipped in his life. Much was loyal more to Robin than to the king and England. It didn't matter that Robin's callous attitude often hurt him, for he was ready to overlook it and always forgave Robin out of love he felt for the deceased hero. He didn't know how he would be able to live and carry on without Robin.

Guy tried not to pay attention to the distraught man's mutterings; the audience with the king was not something he was looking forward to and more than enough for him to bear. The stuffy air and Much's presence in the room didn't make the prospect of waiting time any more appealing.

Marian cast a nervous glance over at Much where he stood, and her gaze fell on the objects which the man was holding in his hands. Her expression evolved into wistfulness. "Much, are these things Robin's bow and scimitar?" She felt tears trembling on her lashes, and frantically she blinked them away.

Nodding his head, Much swallowed his sobs. "Robin's bow is Saladin's gift. Several years ago, when King Richard tried to achieve peace with Saladin by arranging Princess Joan's marriage to Prince Saphadin, the Saracen messenger brought gifts for our King; among them was Robin's bow." He pressed Robin's bow to his heart as if it were the most precious thing in the world. "And Robin's scimitar is still in his own blood…" He stared at Marian, his eyes shimmering with a flood of tears. "Robin took his scimitar from the first Saracen whom he killed in the Holy Land, in our first battle."

Against her will, Marian's eyes filled with tears. "How did you get them?"

"King Richard summoned me and gave me some of Robin's things," Much answered. "He thinks that I deserve to have Robin's bow and… his scimitar in Robin's memory."

Marian gave a watery chuckle. "The king is right, Much. You do deserve to have these things."

They stood in a gloomy silence a few minutes more, and then Much spoke quietly. "Robin kept this scimitar as a reminder of his first killing at the war." He sighed deeply. "At times, Robin felt that he would die here, in the Holy Land. But fate is very cruel… that he was killed with his own scimitar."

"Much, the sheriff will pay for his crimes. The king will see to that," de Tosny said to appease Much.

"The king may kill all the Black Knights, but nothing will return Robin to us. Robin is dead, and we even don't have his body that was lost in the sandstorm," Much lamented.

"I hope they will find… Robin and we will bury him," Marian agreed, her eyes shimmering with tears.

"I cannot believe that Robin is dead," Much said in a low voice shaking with tears and shock, making it difficult to understand his words. "I have been with Robin for so many years that I cannot imagine how he will never be a part of my life."

"Much, I have always admired your devotion and loyalty to Robin," Roger de Tosny said in a voice tight with emotion. "I think that you were more than a former master and his servant, even during your first five years in the Holy Land. You were more than close friends and more than comrades."

"Robin was the most important person in my life. He was everything I loved and love," Much muttered, blinking back tears. "Very few people can understand how special Robin is… was… for me. It is not only about our childhood friendship – it is about friendship, love, understanding, and survival together."

"How did you meet Robin, if I may ask, Lord Much?" Guy addressed the former manservant in a formal way, like Much himself requested. He disliked Much, considering him annoying and irritating, but he admired Much's loyalty to Robin. He had never seen such a loyal and devoted servant.

Much stared at he, his eyes revealing hatred. "Why are you interested, you traitor?"

"It is a simple question," Guy answered calmly. "If you don't want to talk, I don't mind."

"Gisborne, you are a bloody traitor. You deserve to die a slow and painful death," Much hissed between gritted teeth. His eyes grew icy and hard as steel. "I hate and despise you, Gisborne."

Guy nodded. "I accept that. It is your deal."

"Much, please don't say that," Marian implored, looking exasperated, her gaze flying to Guy. "Guy, I will answer your question. Much was taken to Locksley from one of the nearby villages years ago. If I am not mistaken, Sir Malcolm of Locksley, may he rest in peace, chose Much to be a personal servant for Robin, his only son and heir."

Much looked at Guy, narrowing his eyes. "Do you know, Gisborne, when I appeared at Locksley Manor?" His face hardened. "I was born in the family of millers from Clun; my parents and brothers died from plague, and I became an orphan. Sir Malcolm, God let his soul rest in peace, found me in Nottingham in the street and took me to Locksley several months before the fire killed him." His eyes pierced Guy's. "Initially, Sir Malcolm didn't plan to make me Robin's manservant. He offered me a roof and food without payment until he could find someone to take care of me, but I couldn't agree. It was my initiative to become a servant because I wanted to stay in Locksley with Robin."

"Oh!" Marian put a hand on her mouth; she didn't know so many details about Much's past.

Guy was visibly startled. "Well, your loyalty is quite understandable, Lord Much." A shudder went through him: Much seemed to have been aware of the bad blood between Guy and Robin.

Roger de Tosny gave Much a compassionate look. "It is a tragic story, Much. It seems that you and Robin became orphans almost at the same time."

"You are right, Roger," Much said flatly. "After Sir Malcolm's death, Robin was very lonely, and I was alone in the world too. Robin and I found consolation and companionship in one another." He lowered his head. "Robin and I survived through the grief of losing Sir Malcolm. We grew up together, of course with Lady Marian as well. We together survived through the war's horrors and bloodshed in the Holy Land. We lived in Sherwood and fought for the poor together. We helped and saved each other."

"You are more than friends, Much," de Tosny opined. "You are like brothers."

"Robin was more than a friend and a brother," Much said sincerely. His face was an epitome of sheer hatred as he stared at Guy. "This is not Robin who should be dead, but this man – Guy of Gisborne." He pointed an angry finger at Guy. "If the sheriff and you, Gisborne, hadn't made up a tale about our supposed treason, we wouldn't have been detained on that day and Robin wouldn't have allowed the king to go alone and unprotected into the desert."

"Much, please be tolerant towards Guy. Now, if I may say something here–" Marian ventured, glancing nervously at the others, but Much interrupted her.

Much wasn't listening. He couldn't be calm when his Robin was dead; he was growing more furious with every second. He stared at Marian, his gaze hard and unforgiving. "Why should I endure his presence, my lady? Gisborne almost killed Robin in Acre two and a half years ago when he stabbed him from the back! Gisborne killed hundreds of innocent people! He terrorized the population of Nottingham and Locksley for many years! He came here to kill the king and was somehow persuaded by Robin to stop!"

"Guy didn't want to kill the king! He lowered his sword!" Marian shot back.

"Lady Marian, aren't you grieving that Robin is dead? Or are you as indifferent to him as you were when you broke his heart?" Much fumed. There was nothing that could abate his thunderous fury.

"Much, we are not alone," Marian pointed out, as if ashamed of admitting that there was the truth in Much's words; she had indeed broken Robin's heart when she had married Guy.

"What's going on with you, Much? Where are your manners?" Roger de Tosny interjected.

"Roger, I am not trying to deliberately challenge him! I am saying the truth!" Much narrowed his eyes, his face flushing brick red with anger; his tears dried. "This man is alive while Robin is dead! He doesn't deserve to live after everything he did! He should have died instead of Robin!"

Guy felt both embarrassed and angry, but he struggled to keep his emotions at bay. "You speak the truth. I killed many people at Vaisey's order."

"Much, please don't say these things about Guy!" Marian defended. "I know that you are beyond any grief… after Robin's death, but you are not the only one who is suffering. Guy didn't kill the king and he didn't even try this time. He didn't kill Robin, and he himself was wounded by his own sister."

"I don't care! I am not going to listen about Gisborne from the lady who betrayed Robin and all of us!" Much opposed. His expression crystallized dislike into sheer hatred. "The fact is that Gisborne is alive and our beloved Robin is dead! I don't know why Gisborne is still alive – he must be executed for his crimes! I saw what atrocities he can do to innocents, even to children! He is a monster!"

Guy felt his knees trembling. A chilly sweat prickled at his skin. During his service to Vaisey, he didn't kill even one child, and his unwillingness to kill children even earned him many taunting remarks from the sheriff. On the contrary, he tried to spare children's lives, including the case when Vaisey planned to lure Robin out of the forest by threatening to have innocent villagers hanged, drawn, and quartered but then had them pardoned at Guy's insistence. Guy knew that Hood's former manservant was mad with grief, but he still didn't expect such harsh accusations from the man.

Marian pondered that for a moment. "Thank you at least for being honest with me, Much."

"I know it is not my deal, my lady. Sorry," Much broke in. "But you know why I am saying that."

"Never mind… And I partly agree with you," Marian said gently, lowering her gaze.

"Gisborne is so guilty that he will never atone," Much declared angrily; his grief was driving him to the verge of his sanity. "Many terrible things followed Sir Malcolm's death because of Gisborne."

For an instant, Marian forgot her own grief in wondering what Much knew about the childhood of Guy and Robin. "Much, I don't think that we should talk about that right now and here."

"Marian, I don't mind. The timing is not perfect, but I don't care." Guy stared at Much in anticipation. "Lord Much, you want to say something more about me, but hesitate?"

"Gisborne, you started murdering people in your early youth." Much's expression was desperate and hateful. "Your father was a leper, but he came to Locksley after he had been banished. And then the tragedy followed when you, Gisborne, killed Sir Malcolm and your own parents."

"Ah!" Guy gave an exclamation of surprise, feigning his calmness. "So you know everything."

Much pursed his lips. "I have always known about the bad blood between Robin and you, Gisborne. I was three years older than Robin, and I remember some things about the day of the fire better than Robin did," he enlightened. "I understood who you are when we met you in Locksley after our return from the Crusade. Both Robin and I knew that you had returned to settle scores with Robin."

"Much, please stop," Marian pleaded.

"You think I have to stop, don't you?" Much shouted wrathfully. "And why should I?" He pointed a finger at Gisborne. "Gisborne is a murderer of his own parents! He killed Sir Malcolm! He brought so much misery into Robin's life!" His voice turned lower, to a snake's hissing. "Robin was an heir of the rich earl after Sir Malcolm's death, and many people envied him. One of them was Bailiff Longthorn, who tried to kill Robin, perhaps wishing to get rid of the only surviving man in the Huntingdon family."

De Tosny was shaking his head in disapproval, but he didn't intervene. He decided that he would stop them only if they started screaming and shouting or if the verbal argument turned into violence.

"Much, we know about the assassination attempts on Robin's life. Please–" Marian was interrupted.

"You know the official story, Lady Marian. But you don't know what Robin survived through," Much snapped. "I was always with him, taking care of his injuries after the failed attempt on his life." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "I wasn't admitted to Robin only on the day when someone, together with Sir Edward, had brought Robin back to Locksley after three-month captivity; he was apparently very, very sick, after he had been released."

"What happened on that day?" Guy asked impatiently; it worried him since the day when Thornton and Bridget had been murdered.

Much rubbed his nose. "I don't know. It was a strange day." He turned his gaze at Marian. "Your father, my lady, took care of everything. He didn't allow me to go upstairs to Robin. He assured me that Robin would be fine and ordered me to pack my things and prepare to go to Huntingdon."

Marian looked confused. "But who took care of Robin if he was so sick?"

"A doctor and someone who was upstairs, in Robin's bedroom. I know nothing else," Much answered. "We departed to Huntingdon in two days, and I spent with Robin several months there when Robin was recovering. I did everything to help him and ease his pain." His face was deeply sorrowful. "And only God knows how much he needed my help when his broken bones and bruises were healing."

"Why was everything kept in secret for so long, Much?" Marian inquired, puzzled with the mystery and her father's involvement into the case.

"Sir Edward said that everything must be kept secret," Much explained. "Thornton and Sir Edward took care of everything. I didn't utter a word because I was ordered not to speak by Sir Edward and later by Robin himself."

Guy scoffed. "But why are you talking about that now, Lord Much?"

Much's eyes glittered with contempt and hatred. "Robin is dead, and so is Sir Edward." He drew a deep breath. "After Sir Malcolm's death, Robin was young and defenseless, and, thus, he became a victim of Bailiff Longthorn. If Sir Malcolm had been alive, he would have defended Robin."

"It would have been very chivalrous of Sir Malcolm," Guy mocked as he stepped past Marian and leaned against the wall with tapestries.

"Guy, show respect to the dead," Marian reprimanded.

Much pointed at Guy, the hellish fire flaring up in his blue eyes. "Gisborne, you have no right to mock Sir Malcolm, the victim of your cruelty! You killed Sir Malcolm!" He clenched his teeth. "You tried to kill Robin, but you failed to kill him at your hand." He narrowed his eyes to slits. "In the end, your evil nature caused the greatest tragedy – Robin's death." He spat on the floor. "Gisborne, you are cursed. You bring only death. Your evil spirit caused only deaths to the Huntingdons."

"Much, you are a fool! Shut up!" Marian hissed.

"Much, stop! Stop right now!" Roger de Tosny stepped forward. "Or I will make you leave."

In spite of anger that clutched at his heart, Guy suddenly felt guilty. "Don't do anything." He looked at Much. "I agree that I brought much misery into Robin's life, but Robin brought no less misery into my life." His face was a grimace of pain. "Believe me, Lord Much, I paid a high price for all my mistakes."

"Not enough," Much threw, his eyes full of malice. "Robin is dead, and you are alive."

Guy glanced at the window: dusk evolved into red sunset. "At times, death is better."

Marian gazed for a moment in silence at Guy's pale face, understanding how deeply he was affected by Much's accusations. Blood drained from her face at the thought that they had to wait for the king's audience for so long. She prayed that someone would come and escort them to the monarch.

In the next moment, the door opened and Djaq entered the chamber from the corridor.

"I think all of you should calm down," Djaq began in a dispassionate voice. "It is a difficult time for everyone. Your arguments only create tension."

"Very true," de Tosny agreed with a smile.

Guy sighed. Marian glanced away, shaking with helpless anger. De Tosny only shook his head.

"How does King Richard feel?" Much asked. "He will survive, won't he?"

"The king feels unwell. He is recovering, but a little slower than we initially expected," Djaq reported, her gaze curious as her eyes fell on Guy. "He will need several more weeks to regain his strength and recuperate, but his life is no longer in danger."

Everyone in the room sighed with relief, even Guy who didn't want Richard to die for some odd reason.

"And how is Carter?" Much questioned.

"Carter is barely clinging to life, but he is fighting to survive," Djaq said quietly. "Carter is a strong man, but his wound is nearly grave," Djaq reported. "Even if he survives fever and infection, much time will pass before his health improves. He needs at least three months, if not more, to recover."

During the next several moments, there was a small flurry of movement and noise as Lady Melisende Plantagenet, followed by her three ladies-in-waiting, came to the presence chamber. She paused and smiled at Djaq, then thanked her; she also nodded at de Tosny in confirmation that she was ready. As if within a well-choreographed dance, her ladies-in-waiting turned together and curtsied to everyone. Then Melisende waved a dismissing hand at her ladies and alone walked out, into the corridor.

In the next moment, the door flung open, and the king's page entered. He announced that only Guy and Marian were allowed to go to the king's chambers. Marian and Guy shared anxious glances, while others stared at them in astonishment. For a split second, Much looked angry, but then anger loosened its grasp and his face evolved into bewilderment and then resentment. Much turned around and walked out of the chamber, and so did Djaq.

Roger de Tosny turned on his heel and opened the door, letting Guy and Marian go ahead, reminding with his eyes and his quiet demeanor of his advice to be cautious with the Lionheart. Guy almost flushed with gratitude at the friend of his youth for moral support the man gave him; he felt that he was hated by everyone, and Roger's presence and tolerance meant the whole world for him.

De Tosny led Guy and Marian down a corridor with several rooms opening off it. A dozen men lounged in these rooms – the king's guards whom the king assigned to keep him safe in that part of the Citadel of Acre. They reached the steep staircase, and Roger stopped and motioned for Guy to go first, letting Marian go ahead. They hurried up the narrow stairs and then again stopped. The heavy door at the top of the staircase was unlocked, and Roger pushed it open, then stepped into the dimly lit hallway.

"Where are we?" Guy was stunned that they didn't come to the king's official reception room or the presence chamber where all monarchs usually accepted visitors in accordance with standard etiquette.

"It is the king's private chamber," de Tosny replied. "King Richard feels really unwell."

"That's why he is accepting us here?" Marian inquired.

"Yes," Roger confirmed.

She looked away. "I see."

"We should go. The king is waiting for you," de Tosny informed. "The door is unlocked. Go inside."

Marian felt her heart swell suddenly with fear, and she gave Guy an uneasy glance; Guy nodded and managed a tight smile. They needed no further instructions. Guy stepped forward and pulled the door open, allowing Marian to go ahead and following her. Then Guy entered the chamber, ready to face his fate whatever it was – his execution or pardon.

§§§

The king's private chamber glowed in the yellow candlelight from several torches that were burning on the two opposite walls. The chamber had whitewashed walls which were tastefully decorated with rich tapestries in shades of crimson and rose. The room could have been called the bloody room, for even the carpet on the floor was in hues of rose and crimson.

It was a richly furnished room with a walnut table in the corner, three comfortable high-back armchairs covered with crimson brocade and placed near the hearth, and a line of high-back chairs in the same crimson brocade along one of the walls. Lamps holding the finest whale oil shed a gentle light over the remainder of the room, where the light from the torches failed to reach.

"My liege." Marian immediately sank into a gracious curtsey. "Lady Melisende," she added.

Marian discreetly arranged the skirts of her low-cut, bosom-clinging black and gray, somber gown with charming bell-shaped sleeves that ended at the elbow. Like everyone else, Marian wore dark colors. The gown was more sophisticated than those she had usually worn in England. She had nothing to wear after Vaisey had escaped from Acre with her things; she was given several new gowns by one of Melisende's ladies-in-waiting. The lower layer of her hair hung down her slender back, and the other part was arranged in a bun on the nape of her head.

Guy bowed with respect, silent and solemn. He took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing himself not to dwell on his fears and uncertainty gnawing at him.

They were not dismissed from a curtsey and a bow for quite some time.

"Rise and take a seat there," King Richard said after a long pause in Norman-French, pointing his index figure at a pair of armchairs in the opposite side of the chamber.

Marian rose from her curtsey and walked away on her husband's arm. Marian sat down and smoothed her skirts; Guy settled into a nearby chair.

The King of England stood near the table, staring at his guests with a scrupulous gaze, his face unreadable, his emotions carefully hidden. King Richard was in deep mourning, like everyone in the Citadel of Acre and in Acre; he wore a black silk tunic instead of his accustomed Crusader garb. He looked exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes and hollow cheeks, his stature not as majestic as before the regicide attempt, and he was slimmer than before. The fever that had ravaged his body during the past ten days had taken its toll on him; his right hand was still bandaged.

Melisende looked magnificent in her violet velvet gown, with jewel-encrusted high collar and V-shaped neckline, a stunning necklace of rose-gold and pink diamonds adorning her neck. Her violet gown matched the color of her eyes, stressing her voluptuous form as she regally sat in a high-back armchair, her red-gold hair gleaming in the torchlight. She was the only woman who wore colorful dresses of only violet colors, for Robin once told her that purple and violet suited her and that if he died, he wished her to wear clothes matching the color of her eyes while being in mourning.

Melisende's presence puzzled both Guy and Marian. They wondered why the king had requested that she attend the private audience with Guy of all the people. There was an enigma in the manner the king was dealing with Guy's case. Something was wrong, or they didn't know something important.

King Richard looked between Marian and Guy. His eyes pierced Guy to very soul, and brought the man in black leather no relief by making Guy unable to break free from the king's gaze.

Richard walked from the table to the armchairs, his movements tired, gentle, and yet full of power; he was murmuring strange and unclear words to himself. He settled himself in an armchair, next to where Melisende had seated herself, and then stretched his long legs in front of him, as if he were testing the elasticity of his muscles.

"I trust you are doing well, Lady Marian and Sir Guy," Melisende said courteously. She felt strangely close to Marian, though she was aware of Robin's relationship with the other woman; they both lost the man whom they loved, in their own ways, and it united them in their grief. At the same time, she didn't wish even to be in the same room with Guy, knowing what the man had attempted regicide twice. She also loathed Guy for what Guy did to Robin in Acre and in Nottingham.

"We are doing fine. Thank you for your hospitality and care." Guy forced a smile on his face, feeling like an outsider in the company of King Richard and the king's cousin.

Marian shook her head. "Thank you. Everything has been to our liking so far."

King Richard nodded at Marian and Guy, signaling that the words of gratitude were not necessary.

"Good," Melisende said dryly, then averted her gaze, staring into the flames.

Amid the harsh glow of the flickering torches, Lady Melisende Plantagenet looked unearthly melancholic and fatally regal. Marian eyed Melisende, thinking that Robin's wife was an unusual lady. Melisende's beautiful appearance and the richness of her inner world were obvious and undeniable, but there was something in Melisende that made Marian adore the woman and simultaneously cringe in her presence.

"Lady Marian, I owe you a huge debt of gratitude," the king began, looking at her with a critical eye. "If not for you, I could have been dead by now." The grief appeared on his face as though by magic, and then his expression regained its usual blankness. "Together with Robin, you saved my life."

Startled, Marian and Guy remarked that the king was very personal, not using his usual royal "we".

"My liege, I am delighted to see you in good health and, I hope, in a little better spirits," Marian replied politely. "I did nothing to save you. You owe me nothing."

The king let out a smile at her sincere statement. "Lady Marian, you came to the courtyard in Imuiz when I lay wounded and couldn't defend myself. If you hadn't distracted Sir Guy of Gisborne from killing me until Robin came, I could have been dead." His eyes flew to Guy. "At first Sir Guy looked quite determined to kill me, even though he later said that he didn't want to do that."

Guy lowered his eyes and stared down at the red carpet, embarrassed and simultaneously frightened.

Marian slightly inclined her head. "Sire, I only did what I had to do as your loyal subject." She emitted a heavy sigh of grief. "Robin and another man, Archer, saved your life."

The king arched a brow. "Archer?"

"Yes, milord," Marian said in a steady voice. "Archer was Prince John's hired assassin, but he switched sides and helped your men in the battle of Imuiz."

"Very interesting," the king drawled as he reminisced his mother's letter, in which she had warned him about the danger from Robin's secret half-brother Archer. "He disappeared in Imuiz. If he feared that I would arrest and execute him, he was mistaken."

"I am sorry, but we have no idea what happened to him," Marian said truthfully.

King Richard let out a small smile that quickly vanished and was replaced by a serious expression. "No need to apologize. I believe you." He contemplated her for a moment, in silence breached only by the hissing of the burning torches. "Anyway, Lady Marian, you played a great role in my salvation. You were brave and desperate to save my life."

Marian smiled, basking in the king's warm compliments. She felt like Robin at that moment as her actions were appreciated by the king himself. "I am not used to hearing such high praises."

"Take it as a compliment, Lady Marian. I am really impressed." The corners of Richard's lips were quirking in a tiny smile, but his face quickly turned serious again, for his mood was very grim.

"Thank you for your praise and kindness, sire," Marian spelled out humbly.

Richard gestured towards a heap of parchments on the table. "Lady Marian, you will be well rewarded for your services; I have already prepared all the official documents for you. Of course, you must inherit the village of Knighton as Sir Edward's only surviving heir. You will also receive a substantial amount of money to compensate you for the destruction of Knighton Hall by Sir Guy, if I am not misinformed." He paused and cleared his throat. "I will also transfer on your name some more lands in Nottinghamshire, which belonged to my two loyal soldiers who died without heirs."

Guy looked away, his lips tightened. He bit his tongue not to scream in rage as the king brought back what he desperately wanted to forget. It was Hood who had told the king about the unfortunate events with Knighton, and Guy was again amazed how close Robin was to the lion. He was ashamed of his background and his deeds, reverently hoping that the king would change the subject.

Marian felt her cheeks flushing. "Thank you, milord, you are very generous, much more than I want and need, and I would have never requested that from you. I am content with what I have."

"Lady Marian, I insist that you must be rewarded. It is my right to reward my loyal subjects and punish those who commit high treason against their King and England," Richard said emphatically.

"Oh," Guy breathed inaudibly, then gazed away. Taking a deep breath, he was determined to pretend that he wasn't affected by the king's subtle hints on his actions.

"Of course, sire." Marian bent her head to hide the flush on her cheeks.

Richard eyed Marian attentively; he felt sympathetic with her despite the fact that he had condemned her for her marriage to Gisborne and for breaking Robin's heart. "Lady Marian, you shouldn't blame yourself for… Robin's death," he supplied. "Even if you hadn't tried to persuade him to only capture the sheriff, Robin would have tried to capture him alive and detain him. Robin hesitated, thinking that Vaisey deserved a pompous public execution, bloody and humiliating."

Marian pulled her gaze from the floor and forced it to the lion; she was amazed how shrewd and attentive the king was. "Robin told me the same."

The king gave Marian a hard glare. "Yet, Lady Marian, you should learn to hold your tongue back when you are not permitted to speak." There were different notes in his voice – harsher and bitter. "Some things are out of women's business, my lady. You have to keep your nose out of many affairs, like military decisions, when a knight makes a decision whom to kill and how to kill."

Marian's independent nature flamed with silent rage. She had always gotten furious when she had been told by her father and even Robin that there were certain things she must have never done or tried. She was irritated that Guy had placed her on a pedestal and then had been shocked that her real personality turned out to be far from the perfect image he had created in his mind. She was a woman and had no choice in many aspects, but she refused to be treated like a possession and a doll.

"My liege, I beg my pardon if my opinion doesn't coincide with yours, but I believe I can handle myself quite well," Marian disagreed in a polite manner. "I know that I am not always acting cautiously and I may be… reckless, but I assure you that I never mean to bring any harm to anyone."

The king inclined his head, remembering Robin's tales about their adventures in Sherwood. "Lady Marian, even if you mean no harm, your recklessness in words and actions may bring confusion and chaos in someone's mind and negative consequences of your actions for other people."

"I know, sire." Marian blamed herself for reminding Robin of his established non-killing policy when Robin had overpowered Vaisey. Her frustration – with herself and the situation in general – intensified.

The king nodded, his blue eyes bore into Marian's sapphire orbs. "In the situation with Robin, your pleas not to kill Sheriff Vaisey made almost no difference because I know that Robin would have hesitated anyway to kill Vaisey on the spot. After all, Robin and I discussed Vaisey's punishment and decided that it would be better to execute the sheriff publicly." He paused for a moment as if to remember something. "The most dramatic music comes not from an artist's mind but from an artist's heart." His voice turned lethal and low. "Robin let his heart rule his decisions, which resulted in his demise. Robin's true nature went out of control – his humanity in the form of his hesitation to kill and his vanity in the form of his wish to have a grand execution for a former grand executioner."

"I don't know, sire." Marian didn't know if his words were a balm or a lance on her bleeding heart.

"I know, Lady Marian," Richard retorted in a high voice. "I witnessed the whole scene. I know perfectly well what Robin was thinking at that moment." He removed one of his rings from his finger and threw it on a nearby table. "Robin masterfully controlled his emotions in the most critical situations, which made him a brilliant leader and a great military commander and let him win many battles in his military career. Yet, if his tight self-control was confronted by either vanity or humanity or these two feelings altogether, his emotions went out of control and Robin lost himself in an ocean of drama."

"Thank you, my liege," Marian said humbly, somewhat relieved.

The king tore his gaze from Melisende's face and fixed it at Guy. "I believe we have forgotten about your rather delicate situation, Sir Guy."

Guy intercepted the lion's gaze, shuddering at the icy glare Richard directed at him. "I am at your disposal, my liege." He managed a weak smile in spite of fear gripping his entire being.

"Sir Guy, the last thing you will want to do very soon will be to smile and laugh," Richard declared.

For a moment, Richard's eyes met Guy's. They stared at one another, quiet and contemplative.

The Lionheart's eyes were blazing bitter fury and cold with contempt, for he despised Guy. Gisborne was nobody and nothing for him, for he couldn't respect a man who had tried to kill him at least once. Yet, Richard involuntarily began to respect Guy for his ability to stay calm even knowing that he could have been executed on the spot, dying a gruesome death and even not having a Christian burial. The lion felt that Guy could have become loyal to him if he had been pardoned now. He would make Guy feel indebted to him, Richard mused, planning to use that to his own advantage.

Guy felt his knees trembling. As he heard a new threat that left him colder than any thoughts of arrows and swords, his heart was filled dread and fear. He had never feared anyone as much as he feared King Richard. Yet, never before had he felt as much hope and potential to become a free man – free from Vaisey's clutches and free from his demons – as he felt at that very moment.

The king had a strange influence over Guy – he made Guy fear, respect, and admire him for ability to manipulate and cause an effect on everyone around, even on the skeptical and disillusioned Guy. Every minute brought Guy's contact with the king to something more uncertain.

§§§

Guy stared at the king, feeling both hot and cold at the same time. Marian also felt uncomfortable, her hands were shaking, all sorts of conflicting emotions bubbling within her. From time to time, Marian also intercepted Melisende's curious glances at herself and scornful glances at Guy.

"Sir Guy Crispin Fitzcorbet of Gisborne, you committed numerous grave crimes against England, your king, and the people of England," the king said harshly, his eyes narrowing to slits. "By the king's law and common sense, I will do the right thing if I order your immediate execution."

A deathly silence fell over the room as everyone considered the lion's statement.

Guy hung his head, unable to hold the king's hard, intensive gaze. "I understand," he admitted finally.

"Do you admit your guilt?" the king questioned, a stern expression on his face.

Guy didn't raise his eyes at his sovereign. "I do."

Richard sighed heavily. "Gisborne, you organized the Saracen raid two and a half years ago and tried to kill me, but you failed. Instead of killing me, you grievously wounded Robin, and I have never believed that you did that accidentally since I learnt the name of the culprit."

"You are right, sire. When I attempted regicide for the first time, I planned to kill you and also thought that I could try to kill Robin of Locksley on the same night if I could quickly find him in the camp," Guy acknowledged, looking down, at the carpet.

The ladies gasped, horror on their faces, and heard Guy sigh. Richard stiffened and stared hard at Guy.

"So you knew whom you attacked and wounded from the back?" the king continued interrogation.

Guy looked at him and nodded. "Yes, I knew. I accidentally discovered Robin, but I swiftly recognized him. I tried to kill him and hoped that he would die."

"At least you don't deny that," the lion barked. "And now you came here plotting regicide again."

Guy lifted his eyes at the king, his face as ghostly pale as winter snow, his lips nearly bloodless. "Sire, I confess that I have committed heinous crimes in my entire life." He paused and stared down at his hands folded in his lap. "I have killed many people in cold blood since I pledged my loyalty to Lord Peter Vaisey many years ago. Many of them were your loyal knights."

The lion shot Guy an inquisitive look. "Your loyalty was misplaced. How did you meet Vaisey?"

Guy never liked remembering his youth in Normandy. "Vaisey hired me as his squire in Rouen many years ago; before I had served as Sir Roger de Tosny's squire." He swallowed hard. "Like all the de Tosny family, Roger has a commercial talent, and I tried to take an example from him. However, I only lost a lot of money and tried to gamble to repay my debt. Vaisey was my main lender, and he pressured me to become his squire after Roger had been seriously injured on a tournament in Rouen. Since then, I served Vaisey and was his right-hand man."

"Something else, Sir Guy?" Richard pressed on.

In the state of almost shock, Guy unseeingly gazed at the king's strict face; he had to say everything if he wanted to be pardoned, even if it meant putting himself in more danger. "I killed many of your loyal knights at Vaisey's order in Normandy, Anjou, Maine, and Aquitaine. When Vaisey was appointed the sheriff of Essex by King Henry, we relocated to England; I was Vaisey's henchman and carried out his numerous commands of doubtful and illegal nature in Essex. When Vaisey was appointed the sheriff of Nottingham by Prince John, I acted in the same manner in Nottinghamshire." He paused, biting his lips.

"Go on," Richard emboldened.

Guy took a deep breath "About three years ago, the sheriff suggested that I go to the Holy Land and kill you, milord." He paused, sighing deeply; his voice was not steady. "I agreed and arrived here, but I failed." His voice grew more tremulous. "Now I came here to attempt regicide again, with the only difference that I was pressured by Vaisey to kill you to save Marian and my sister Isabella, although at that time I didn't know that Isabella was a part of Prince John's plot against you, milord."

"Did you know something about the treacherous massacre in the Crusaders' camp?" Richard asked.

Guy shook his head in denial. "I knew nothing. Vaisey told me about the massacre only after the deed had already been done. He said that the Earl of Buckingham, the Earl of Spenser, the Baron of Rotherham, and the Earl of Durham had gone to Acre and organized the massacre in the king's camp."

Richard's lips thinned in anger. "I remember these names from the Pact of Nottingham."

"Yes, milord." Guy frowned, thinking what else he could tell the king about the massacre. "Lord Walter Sheridan was against this plan. But Prince John wanted to have you massacred and sent the Black Knights to Acre despite Sheridan's fears that they would fail."

"I know that Sheridan betrayed England and his king," the monarch said with an exasperated snort. Sheridan's treason was a painful blow for him.

"Yes, milord. He became the Black Knight after he returned to England," Gisborne pointed out.

"I am well aware of that," the lion said, sadness creeping into his voice. He was quiet for a moment, thinking. "Gisborne, you killed Sir Roger of Stoke, whom I held in a very high regard," he accused.

"Yes, I am guilty. I killed Roger of Stoke because Robin gave him a secret message for you, sire. I knew that Robin wanted to warn you about the Black Knights, and I had to stop him at the sheriff's order," Guy acknowledged. "I found Roger of Stoke and killed him."

The lion let out a sigh. "I know why you murdered Roger. What about Lord William Loughborough? I was reported that he disappeared in Nottingham."

"I attacked Loughborough at the sheriff's order and fatally wounded him," Guy said, feeling his body trembling in self-loathing. "I murdered him in cold blood."

Marian shuddered in shock at the memory of the day when Guy had told her about Loughborough's murder. Melisende muttered something unintelligible under her breath.

"Well, at least you don't deny your guilt," the lion said.

Guy nodded. "I don't."

A mocking gleam in his eyes, King Richard burst out laughing, but it was not a peasant laugh. "You seem to be deprived of all moral norms, Sir Guy! By chance, didn't you try to kill my beloved mother, Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine, or the Holy Roman Emperor, or perhaps even His Holiness?"

Marian glanced at the king suspiciously, but his face was unreadable. It wasn't clear whether the lion was impressed by Guy's honesty or shocked with the revelations about Guy's crimes.

"Never, sire." Guy was intensely mortified and embarrassed.

"Do you have something to justify your criminal actions?" The king's mocking smile glinted briefly at Guy's worried expression, and then his face turned absolutely blank.

Guy looked fearlessly into the king's face. "No. I have nothing else to say to defend myself."

The king stared down for a moment at his feet. Then he nodded. "Very well then."

There was a tense, thunderous silence in the room for several long moments.

"Richard, I don't understand why Gisborne is still alive. He himself says what he did to you and Robin," Melisende said flatly, her eyes at her cousin's face. "This man committed grave crimes against England and you. He attempted to kill you, the King of England, and our Robin; he also played a role in Robin's death." She lurched to her feet and pointed a finger at Guy. "He is a traitor. His sentence is death."

Richard sighed heavily. "Melisende, you know what Robin begged me to do, don't you?"

Melisende nodded. "I do know."

"Then, my dear Melisende, you must understand that I cannot go against Robin's wish on deathbed," Richard told his cousin, his tone gentle.

"Richard, I respect my husband's last wish, although I believe Robin was too generous to those who don't deserve that," Melisende replied, her eyes shooting daggers at Guy. "But this man attempted your assassination and sided with John. He is one of the Black Knights and worked against you for many years. He is dangerous, and he may try to kill you again, Richard."

"Wait, Melisende," Richard urged. "Sir Guy said that he didn't want to kill me. Is it true?"

Guy nodded his black head. "I didn't want to do that, but I was afraid that Vaisey would kill Marian."

The silence spun out. Guy's steady gaze rested a moment on the king and then drifted to Marian, who felt a hot, crimson blush rising from her chin to her forehead as she bravely met his eyes. Marian and Guy were increasingly aware that the king would soon say what he was going to do to him.

His red-gold hair blazing in the candlelight, the king shook his head as he scrutinized Guy. "Sir Guy Crispin Fitzcorbet of Gisborne has confessed willingly and truthfully, and I cannot deny that I am surprised with this honest confession, for it is an honorable and bold action," he said, with a touch of astonishment in his low voice. "I am going to keep my word given to Robin. I am granting Sir Guy my absolute pardon, and I will transfer on his name the former Gisborne lands, though it goes against my best judgment." He paused for a moment to let the implications of his words sink into the heads of his guests. "Besides, I don't think that he will try to kill me again, not after what I am going to tell you."

"Sire, I thank you with all my heart," Marian said with a warm smile.

Guy bowed slightly, in deep respect to the king. He had never thought that the king could be so generous to those who betrayed him. "I don't know how to thank you, milord," he said hesitantly. "I find it hard to believe you are ready to pardon me after everything I did, but I am very grateful."

"Wait and see before you are so eager to thank me, Sir Guy," Richard said somewhat unexpectedly.

Guy stiffened, too scared and too distressed to do anything else to hear what the king intended to say. Marian cast a suspicious glance at the king, conscious of the rapid increase in her heartbeat – an increase that had everything to do with fear.

"Sire?" Guy raised his eyebrows, amazed.

"Patience," Richard urged in a metallic voice. "What I really want to talk to you about is very important and confidential. It will change many things. I gave Robin my word that I would reveal the truth to Sir Guy, and I am not going back on my word, though this is not what I want to do."

"Mon Dieu, Richard!" Melisende lurched to her feet. "If it is a private conversation, I think I would better leave. Even if you are ready to pardon this man, I cannot forget that he tried to kill you and my husband so many times, both in Nottingham and in Acre."

"Our conversation is extremely important," the king declared emphatically. "Melisende, take a seat there. Don't overexcite yourself." He rose to his feet and walked to the table in the corner. Then he poured out to a goblet of wine for himself and returned to his armchair. "My dear, it concerns Robin and, thus, the child you are carrying. You must know the truth about the origins of Robin and your child."

Melisende blinked her eyes. "Richard…"

"Please sit down, my dear," the king said softly.

The king's cousin looked at the king, smiling moodily. "As you wish, Richard." The skirts of her violet velvet gown fluttered around her feet as she settled back into her armchair.

Marian and Guy stared at Melisende in amazement. They noticed a haunted look in Melisende's eyes as the king spoke about her condition before her eyes turned blank. Despite a nasty combination of envy and jealousy clawing into her heart as she would have also liked to have a child of her own, Marian was relieved that someone would carry on Robin's name and continue his legacy.

Even despite her blooming beauty, Melisende looked unhealthy: she lost some weight and was ghostly white, and yet she looked as if she were breathing life as she stared at Guy and Marian with her glowing violet eyes that were blazing with fire and inner strength.

"Congratulations, Lady Melisende," Marian said sincerely.

In spite of inner tension, a small smile lit up Guy's face. "Please accept my congratulations, my lady."

"Thank you." Melisende's cheeks were pale, and hurriedly she bit color into her lips.

The king smiled vaguely, his spirits suddenly lifting skyward. "At least we have someone left after Robin… It is a great pity that Robin didn't know about his own child." There was an incredibly wistful expression on his face for an instant. "Robin's child will continue the Huntingdon line and will inherit everything which belonged to Robin, except for the Gisborne lands, and, of course, everything which currently belongs to Melisende." Lounging carelessly in a comfortable armchair, he took a sip of his wine. "If it is a girl, she will be the Countess of Huntingdon in her own right; the line won't die out."

Melisende nodded slowly. "At least God gave me a gift from Robin. It is not Robin, but it is a piece of him." Looking across at Richard, her usually regal expression replaced by instant vulnerability.

Richard smiled at his cousin. "Robin's life was precious to me throughout so many years. This child will also be precious to me." Upon Melisende's face, Richard saw pain and heartbreak, the mirror of his own real emotions he masterfully covered with a mask. "Maybe this child will be able to fill the hollowness in our hearts now when Robin is gone forever."

"I doubt that, Richard. I highly doubt that," the king's cousin retorted. A tear slid down her cheek and she turned away from Guy and Marian, staring into the flames from the torches.

Marian turned to follow Melisende's gaze and saw the flare of several torches. The orange flames cast reflections of their feelings – heartache as strong as physical pain from burning human skin.

Melisende was emotionally devastated, but she wore her familiar mask of cold regalness and proud arrogance. In the last days, she only wished to be in solitude in her bedchamber she had shared with Robin, trying to pretend that nothing had happened and that Robin was alive. Grief was so colossal and so great that Melisende often wished to howl in pain like a wounded animal. In nighttime, she awoke in cold sweat and wept. In daytime, she was taking care of her wounded and possibly dying cousin, and she had to keep her head high, as if nothing could have hurt her. Yet, in reality she wanted to scream that she wanted Robin alive and that she loved him, but she couldn't give her painful emotions a free reign.

Melisende loved Robin, and she always would. But Robin was gone, and she couldn't accept that. Only the child she was carrying was bonding her to Robin. She loved Robin and loved his child, but she knew that the baby wouldn't compensate for the loss of Robin. She would give up everything, perhaps even her own child, if it meant that Robin would be alive and come back to her from the darkness.

There was a long silence in the room. Everyone waited for the king to speak.

King Richard looked very serious. "I didn't want to take Robin to the Holy Land, but he insisted that he must do his duty to his country and his king. He was a man of duty, duty always prevailed over everything else in his life, and I could do nothing with that."

Marian raised melting and astounded blue eyes to the king. "Sire, do you mean that you wanted to spare him from the service to you?"

The king shook his head. "Yes, I wanted Robin to stay in England. I even prohibited Robin from joining the Crusade because we didn't want to endanger his life. However, having thought about the matter, I decided that it would be better to let him accompany me on the Crusade to prevent him from sneaking into the army and endangering his life even more."

"Oh," Marian breathed, amazed a great deal.

"Robin," Richard spelled out in a voice full of tenderness. "I have always loved him more than anyone else among my knights, and Robin loved me in return. We were very close friends since Robin's early youth." His words trailed off, the voice like a deep and velvety smooth.

Marian and Guy were astounded to learn how deep the king's affection for Robin had always been.

"It was impossible not to love Robin," Melisende managed to whisper.

A tremulous smile lit up the king's face. "I liked Robin at first glance when he arrived at my court in Poitiers. We quickly became close friends, and over time I grew to love him as a friend."

"Oh." Marian tried to breathe in deeply, but the air could barely squeeze through the constriction of her throat. She was shocked to hear such words from the king. Now she could understand why Robin had pledged his unconditional loyalty to Richard.

"Your friendship meant a lot to Robin," Melisende said quietly.

"Robin himself and his life meant to me more than our friendship," Richard confessed. He paused, his breath caught, and the world seemed to slow as he remembered the scene of Robin's death. He let out a deep, agonizing breath. "I tried to protect Robin from many sources of danger here, in the Holy Land. For that purpose, I asked some of my men to watch Robin, discreetly, in battles and save him at any cost if necessity arose; some of my men were seriously injured and died saving his life."

The realization dawned upon Melisende. "Richard, did you send Robin home to protect him?"

"Yes," the king confirmed, letting out a deep sigh. "After you, Gisborne, had wounded him in the Saracen raid, I sent Robin home not because I didn't need Robin here, for his military skills were what I lacked in his absence, but because I wanted to protect him." A heavy sigh followed. "I didn't know that John wanted to kill me and that Robin would openly rebel against him. I recalled him back to the Holy Land because I feared that he would be killed in England by the Black Knights."

"You tried to protect him, sire?" Marian looked more amazed.

Richard gave a nod. "Always."

"Why, Richard?" Melisende intervened, curious. "I know that you loved Robin – he was your most loyal subject, confident, and close friend; but I have never thought that you had protected him so much."

There was a nerve-tingling silence as the king's bright gaze flickered over his curious companions.

"I gave my word to my beloved mother that I would keep an eye on Robin and would protect him," the king responded melancholically. "I promised to my mother that I would do my best to keep Robin alive in the Holy Land." His chest heaved with a sigh, a mixture of anger with himself and sorrow with Robin's death twisting his stomach. "But finally I led my dear Robin to his grave. I let my mother down."

Bewildered, Melisende looked at her cousin. "Aunt Eleanor? Why did you give her such a promise?"

Marian stared at the king in blank amazement. Guy almost uttered an inhuman cry and barely managed to suppress it as he was trying to follow gauge the king's thoughts.

"My mother loves Robin very much. She has never wanted him dead and has always asked me to protect him," the monarch answered. "I did that willingly and eagerly because I gave her a promise and because I loved Robin; I still love him." He trailed off, sighing deeply. "Robin and I shared blood."

''Ah!" Marian cried, shocked. "But how is that possible, sire?"

"Possible." Guy realized who the Queen Mother's golden boy they had failed to identify was.

Melisende gasped. "Richard, you mean Robin was your half-brother?"

King Richard turned his head and stared steadily at one of the tapestries depicting a crimson sunset above a vast blue sea expanse. "_Yes. Robin was my half-brother. He was my mother's son._"

Her mouth forming an amazed "oh" of shocked surprise, Marian gasped for air. Melisende stared at the king and nodded in understanding, not as surprised as Marian was. Guy turned his gaze at the lion, his heart beating thickly, nearly suffocating him at the thought that the sheriff had killed the Queen Mother's golden boy in the end; he was disgusted with himself, feeling very guilty.

"Sire, with all due respect, I understand nothing. Robin is the son of Lady Elizabeth of Locksley who died in childbirth, but her child – Robin – was born healthy and survived," Marian interposed, her expression turning into disbelief. "Surely Robin had some idea who his parents were?"

"Robin knew nothing for many years, but only some time ago I told him the truth," Richard informed. "Lady Elizabeth of Locksley died together with her stillborn daughter. The children were replaced."

"And who is Robin's father?" Melisende questioned.

"Sir Malcolm of Locksley is Robin's father," Richard asserted. "Officially, Robin is the son of Sir Malcolm and Lady Elizabeth of Locksley, and only he had a right to hold his title of the Earl of Huntingdon. There is nobody who will ever say otherwise because all the witnesses are dead. I will say nothing more on the matter."

There was a long, shocked silence when the king finished speaking, and his companions were staring at him with awed attention and in sheer shock.

Marian and Guy exchanged anxious glances, their minds drifting to the strange murder of Thornton and Bridget, but neither of them dared voice their suspicions; they thought that some of Richard's spies had killed Thornton and Bridget who had been about to tell them how the knight who had saved Robin from Longthorn looked like. It was clear that _Richard was the knight-savior of Robin Hood_ – the young Norman knight, whose powerful and muscular complexion had fascinated Bridget.

Guy even laughed in his mind that he hadn't realized that Robin had been the Queen Mother's only illegitimate son before, especially after Marian had told him that Prince Richard had been Robin's legal guardian for some time and taking into account the fact that Robin had lived in Poitiers during the time of Richard's last rebellion against his father, the old King Henry. Richard had clearly taken Robin to Aquitaine to guarantee Robin's survival in case of his death in the battle or his father's victory.

Nevertheless, the situation was confusing. But if Richard's spies had been spying on Marian and Guy at Locksley Manor, why didn't they kill both Marian and Guy? The things that Thornton and Bridget had shared with them were dangerously close to the truth. There was a missing part in the chain. There was something they didn't know. There was mystery behind the deaths of Thornton and Bridget, but both Marian and Guy were sure that the man who had killed them was very close to Richard.

§§§

A silence was deep, a muffling of all sound. The walls with hangings and tapestries of crimson and rose colors were having an insidious effect on everyone's exacerbated nerves.

Guy hesitated, but he had to ask the question that was tormenting him since the day of regicide attempt in Imuiz. "Sire, but how am I related to the matter?" he asked, his eyes anxious, and his bottom lip showing a tendency to tremble. "When we were in Imuiz and the sheriff wanted to kill Marian, blackmailing us to kill you instead to have her life spared, Robin told me… that I cannot murder you… because I cannot kill my own brother. Is it true?"

The window was ajar, but it was still stuffy and warm in the chamber. King Richard stood up from his armchair and walked to the window. He stood there, the light breeze ruffling his hair, looking straight into Guy's eyes. "It is true, Gisborne. We share blood through our father Henry."

Marian and Melisende suffered another dreadful shock at the revelation. Neither of them could speak.

Guy felt his cheeks flushing. "I have always known that my mother had been King Henry's mistress before she married Roger of Gisborne, but I have never thought that I am not his son."

"Well, now you know the truth, Sir Guy," Richard said, with a brief friendly grin. "My father had many mistresses. He changed them like clothes. Having as many women as possible in his bed was like breathing and eating for him." He sounded scornful, even hateful. "You know, Sir Guy, you are even lucky that our father had never believed in your paternity. Believe me that the official relation to the Plantagenet family might make things in your life a lot more difficult, especially if you are a man."

Guy looked somewhat absent-minded. "King Henry acknowledged some of his bastards."

"If father had acknowledged you, Sir Guy, you could have easily found yourself in danger just because you are Plantagenet on a paternal line and because there are many willing people to fight for the throne." The king's voice was rough and uncompromising. "My own brother John wants to kill me to usurp my throne which I inherited from my father. John has always hated all the bastards whom father sired on his numerous mistresses and whores. He would have hated you, Gisborne, as well, if he had known the truth," he said, turning on his heel and walking back to his armchair. "I doubt that you would have been the Black Knight who tried to kill me in that case."

"There are a lot of Uncle Henry's bastards at Aunt Eleanor's court," Melisende broke in. "John has never been friendly with them. He likes only Sir William Longespée, the Earl of Salisbury, whom Uncle Henry acknowledged as his son and gave him the honor of Appleby, Lincolnshire, in 1188."

"Straight to the point, Melisende," the lion agreed. "I am not speaking about Robin, the illegitimate son of my mother, whom John is not very fond of to say the least. We have always feared that Robin's true parentage would become known to John's spies as John would have tried to kill Robin."

Deeply troubled, Melisende sighed. "John shouldn't know."

Guy seemed to hesitate, and then he asked cautiously, "Milord, we spoke about Robin's true parentage." He licked his dry lips. "I swear that I won't betray your trust, but I would like to know whether these things are somehow related to the truth you and Robin promised to tell me."

The king inhaled deeply, his chest rising, his blue eyes piercing Guy. A long silence stretched between them, and Guy almost lost hope that the king would speak; he glanced away, burning with humiliation.

The lion smiled grimly. "It is the most difficult part," he broke the pause. "This is the truth about the things that happened a long time ago – the things related to the fire, in which Sir Malcolm of Locksley, Sir Roger of Gisborne, and Lady Ghislaine of Gisborne tragically died." He relapsed into silence to let everyone digest the information, his gaze fixing on Guy. "It was our father, Sir Guy, who was guilty of their deaths. He wanted Sir Malcolm, Sir Roger, and Robin dead."

"King Henry?" Guy tossed his head in disbelief.

"King Henry wanted them dead?" Marian echoed. "Why?"

"Henry Plantagenet commanded to kill them," Richard said, rubbing a shoulder. He pronounced the name of his own father with sheer contempt. "Our own father, the King of England, wanted them dead and asked Bailiff Longthorn to kill Sir Malcolm, Sir Roger, and Robin. The Bailiff used his chance when he learnt that they were trapped in the burning Gisborne Manor. Later Longthorn dutifully attempted to murder Robin, but I stopped him and killed him. Lady Ghislaine's death in the fire was a coincidence."

Marian shook her head, numb in shock. Melisende felt the same.

"Why did King Henry want Robin dead?" Marian inquired incredulously.

"Did uncle Henry learn about Robin's existence? It would have explained his sudden desire to get rid of aunt Eleanor's lover and her bastard." Melisende's keen and lofty intellect never failed her.

Richard smiled sadly. "Exactly. Sir Malcolm told Lady Ghislaine of Gisborne about his affair with Queen Eleanor and about Robin's true parentage; he told her the whole story." He moved in his armchair, ignoring the faint throb of his wound in his right shoulder.

"There is no way it could have happened," Guy protested.

"Sir Guy, you are wrong. As far as I know, Sir Malcolm had a secret affair with your mother; he trusted her and told her the truth; they planned to marry," Richard said, with cold formality. "It was your mother who told Roger of Gisborne the truth about Robin; perhaps by chance, perhaps deliberately."

"No!" Guy's blood ran cold.

"Yes," the king said. "Sir Roger became a traitor in the Holy Land. He was captured by the Saracens and put to the rack. He informed the Saracens about important war operation." He released a tired sigh. "The Saracens knew in advance what the Christians planned, and as a result many Norman knights died. Roger of Gisborne's treason caused deaths of many knights."

"And what happened then?" Melisende's voice was impatient.

The king gave vent to a dejected smile. "Roger of Gisborne spent many years in the Saracen prison, but he miraculously survived and returned to England. In England, he was a traitor to the crown, but he craved to seek forgiveness of his king." He looked fixedly at Guy. "With a vile plan in his calculative mind, Sir Roger came to our father and sold out to him the secret about Robin's true parentage, hoping to be pardoned in exchange for the revelation of the truth about the queen's adultery with Sir Malcolm and its product – Robin."

"No," Guy moaned, his eyes pleading the king to refute his own words.

"It is true," Richard said shortly, his tone chilly. "Sir Roger of Gisborne reported to our father that the Queen of England had had an affair with Sir Malcolm of Locksley and had given birth to his child."

"Guy, your mother and Robin's father were lovers?" Marian's eyes widened in bewilderment.

His steel blue eyes hard and icy at the memory of Malcolm of Locksley, Guy nodded at Marian. "I once told you that my mother indulged herself into two extramarital affairs. These men were King Henry and… Robin's father, Malcolm of Locksley. This is another reason why I hated Robin."

"Oh, my God," Marian breathed.

Melisende could only shake her head. "That's the most tragic and unbelievable tale I have ever heard."

Richard smiled at his cousin, knowingly. "But it is real, Melisende."

"No," Guy muttered, his eyes foxed in one point. "It cannot be true. My father… Roger was not a traitor! My father cannot be a traitor! How can that be?"

"Easy!" the king's voice boomed. "Several Knights Templar still remember Sir Roger's treason in the Holy Land. Now they are old men, but they are alive. Most of them are in England, but one is here, in Acre. I can give you his name and you can find him; he will tell you the same."

Guy glared helplessly at the king, but seeing the determined line of his jaw, he knew that he was told the truth. "Even if King Henry ordered to kill them and the bailiff tried to do that, I murdered my parents! I dropped the torch! I started the fire! It is my fault!"

Richard watched him, frowning uncertainly. "I suppose you did start the fire, Gisborne, but ask yourself whether the fire was so great that it was absolutely impossible to leave the manor. As far as I know, Bailiff Longthorn acted quickly and almost forced the villagers to burn the manor: he intimidated them, saying that leprosy could spread in the village and everyone could be infected. The huge fire which the villagers started blocked all the ways of escape and the trapped people were doomed to die in the flames."

Guy's face twisted into a look of shocked disbelief, his gaze cloudy with inner torment. He wished only to run away from the room, as if all the demons in hell had gone after him. "All these years I thought it was my fault, that my parents died because of the fire that I started, but it was my real father and Bailiff Longthorn who killed my mother and the man whom I called my father." His voice turned lower, almost vibrating in his chest. "That guilt was with me every day. Every day!"

Marian got to her feet and approached Guy. "Guy…" She put an arm about Guy's shoulders, shaking him gently. "My God, Guy, please calm down."

"How can I stay calm?" Guy shook off his arm impatiently. He jumped to his feet and began pacing the chamber up and down with emphatic gestures. "My father is not my father. My true father is the King of England. My natural father betrayed me and looked at the fact that I, his son, suffered in Normandy, in abject poverty, working as a slave to get some food for myself and my sister," he spoke hastily, his voice almost shaking with emotion. "How could the king, my father, allow his son to be dispossessed even if he wanted to kill Malcolm of Locksley and my father… erm... Sir Roger of Gisborne?"

A cliffhanging silence greeted Guy's outburst, and the king's words of displeasure fell like ice in the frozen stillness. "Sir Guy, you must take a hold of your emotions."

"Forgive me, milord," Guy blurted out.

"Granted," the lion returned in the same cold tone.

"Robin," the king whispered in a sensitive, caressing voice; there was unbelievable tenderness in his voice when he pronounced only Robin's name. "I loved him with all my heart."

"And so did I," Melisende said. Her eyes met Richard's blue, their gazes of great intensity, full of pain and anguish. "I loved Robin so much."

"I know, Melisende," Richard said with understanding. His expression turned tender and wistful for a moment. "I lost my beloved Robin, too, my only brother who really loved me with all my faults, with all my weaknesses and strengths, who was utterly loyal to me and England." Then wistfulness was gone, and his face turned stern. "And, unlike you, Gisborne, I am not performing scenes of drama here."

Guy stopped pacing the room and returned to his armchair. As he seated himself and risked casting a brief glance at Richard, all he could see was the king's unforgivable and hard expression. Yet, Guy noticed that there was something vulnerable in the depths of Richard's blue eyes: he realized that the lion was endeavoring to conceal his grief. The king was so overwhelmed with feelings of the utmost pain and black sorrow for the loss of Robin that there was no place for other emotions in his heart.

If Guy had initially suspected that the king could probably have had some compassion for him, now he was doomed to disappointment, for the lion's face remained coldly hostile. He even experienced a faint stab of regret that the king, his newly discovered half-brother, treated him so coldly. He understood that Richard despised him and talked to him only out of deep love for Robin of Locksley, who wanted the king to unveil the mysteries of the past; Richard opened the truth only to grant Robin's last wish.

Marian was stunned with the coldness in the king's tone. "Sire, Guy is shocked!" she remonstrated.

The lion scowled. "Lady Marian, Gisborne is a grown-up man. He must control himself. If he doesn't understand something, he must accept that some things are beyond reason."

Marian thought that she had misheard him. "Sorry?"

"I mean that I understand Gisborne's shock, but he must accept reality and listen, then ask questions and nothing else." There was a sharp rebuke in the lion's voice. "Let's not waste time on emotions because I am not very interested in what Sir Guy feels."

Marian choked back a laugh. "Feelings are more important than rational reasoning. Reasoning makes mistakes, but conscience and heart never do." She was displeased with the reprimand towards Guy.

"As troublesome and willful as Robin," Richard murmured, his wrath striking a right note. "Much of our reasoning ends in surrender to feelings, but it is not a royal prerogative."

"Richard, it is a difficult moment for Sir Guy. I am blown away, and imagine what he feels!" Melisende's quiet voice begged her cousin. "Be a good soul and say nothing about our royal burdens; not now."

Richard smiled, showing his excellent white teeth. His face softened instantly. He loved and adored Melisende, and he couldn't turn her request down. "As you wish, my dear," he told her.

"Thank you." Marian's heart was full of gratitude as she glanced at Melisende.

"Thank you." Like Marian, Guy gave Melisende a gaze full of kindness and gratitude. She was his cousin on his natural father's side, and he appreciated that she had defended him in front of the king.

"Everything is much more complicated than you may think," the king continued in a flat tone. "The Plantagenet blood is a deadly poison that kills slowly and painfully. The Plantagenets are never united and always fight each other."

Melisende smiled sadly. "Always fighting for power and the throne."

"We, the Plantagenets, often mock the things which most people hold sacred," the king stated dolefully, drumming his fingers on the elbows of his armchair. "In the same mocking fashion, many years ago I had to make a cruel deal with our father to save Robin and let him live a normal life at the price of my mother's imprisonment until our father's death, my pledge to keep an eye on Robin, and the sacrifice of the Gisbornes to satisfy father's injured pride." He paused for an instant, for it was also difficult for him to talk. "And, most importantly, Sir Guy, our father never believed that you are his son. He believed that your mother betrayed him with another man."

King Richard spoke for more than half an hour, giving an outrageous tale of secrets, betrayals, and horrors, a tale which Guy wished vehemently to deny, but which he knew was the truth. Guy gazed wordlessly at the King of England, his half-brother whose life he had tried to take twice, and he thanked God from the bottom of his heart that he had failed thanks to Robin.

Guy looked at the king unflinchingly for a very long time, not quite trusting himself to intervene and ask any questions, fearful that the king would not be able to keep from hurling himself at Guy in a savage fury. Besides, he saw that the lion held onto his temper with an effort, for it was difficult to talk about the past and admit his partial guilt and the fact of his contribution to the plight of the Gisbornes.

He recalled strange, mysterious phrases which Malcolm and Roger had exchanged when Malcolm had unexpectedly appeared at Gisborne Manor at the time when Roger and Ghislaine had discussed their relationship. His mind reproduced the inscrutable verbal exchange between Roger and Malcolm when the two men had fought and Ghislane had beseeched them to stop. At that time, Guy hadn't understood many things, but now everything suddenly became clear. Of course, Guy also remembered the words spoken by the priest who had told him that Roger had wronged Malcolm and Robin; the priest had said to him the truth, and he was grateful for the given warning.

Guy could still hear Roger of Gisborne screaming that Malcolm of Locksley had been an adulterer and a traitor who had seduced a lady of a high social standing while his own wife had carried his child; Roger had meant Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine, which had meant that he had surely been aware of the queen's secret. Malcolm's accusation of double treason towards Roger had still been ringing in Guy's ears; now he realized that Robin's father had referred to Roger's treason in the Holy Land and the personal betrayal of Malcolm and Queen Eleanor. Guy knew that Richard didn't lie, but he didn't comprehend how the king had managed to learn such details.

The tale about Lady Ghislaine of Gisborne's betrayal of Queen Eleanor, who had arranged a marriage of Guy's mother to Roger of Gisborne, followed. Richard also spoke about Ghislaine's liaison with Malcolm, which shocked Guy. The despicable actions of Sir Roger of Gisborne, the man whom Guy had loved, mourned for, respected, and considered his father, horrified Guy to the core. He felt hot anger slashing through him and even disdain for Roger for the first time in his life; he loathed Roger for what the man had done, even if his fake father had wanted to save himself and family, his title and lands.

Ghislaine's betrayal seemed easier to accept because she betrayed only Malcolm's trust, but Roger's betrayal went much deeper as the treacherous man had been ready to trade the life of an innocent child – Robin's life – for forgiveness of his king whom he had previously betrayed in the Holy Land. Guy could understand his mother, for he was sure that she had told Roger the secret unintentionally and not knowing how he would use it against Robin and Malcolm; Guy couldn't justify Roger's behavior. He also loathed Malcolm of Locksley for his shameless liaison with the Queen of England.

Soon Richard started telling a sad story about King Henry's demands from Richard in exchange for letting Robin lead a normal life of a rich Earl. A part of Guy was screaming in silent anguish that he had lived a life of lies, but the rational part of him was not surprised with the actions of his real father, King Henry, and even with Richard's willingness to sacrifice his, Guy's life and wellbeing, to save Robin. Guy knew that Richard loved his mother madly and was ready to do everything for her, even to sacrifice Guy, his half-brother, to save another half-brother. Obviously, Robin had a preference over Guy in Richard's world because Robin was Eleanor's beloved son, while Guy was Henry's bastard.

Guy felt hatred for both Henry and Richard welling up in his heart, and almost compulsively his eyes strayed to the carpet to hide his emotions. But then the furious rage that had consumed him earlier died away, leaving only icy controlled anger, great pain, and wounds on his heart. Suddenly, dizzying hope flooded through his tormented heart, and Guy felt that he no longer hated Robin, who turned out to be not as guilty as he had believed before. Suddenly, Guy was very close to feeling sick of guilt that he had hated Robin and wished his sworn enemy dead so much.

Richard continued speaking, revealing the new and new details of the dark story that had happened between Malcolm of Locksley, Ghislaine of Gisborne, and Roger of Gisborne. More and more facts and truths were spoken aloud by King Richard, and Guy was becoming more and more confused, lost in the sea of pain. Guy's world was broken into many small pieces, and there was a deep wound in his heart. Guy knew only one thing for sure – the facts about his true parentage. Everything else seemed to be so unreal and so unbelievable that he was sure he was dreaming.

§§§

The last words of the outrageous tale fell like deadly drops of poison into a pool of utter silence. The King of England finished his long and sad tale. The silence he left was deafening, and everyone remained motionless, almost indulgent amazement and bewilderment curling around them.

"Sir Guy, I warned you that you would find it very hard to like this story," King Richard said flatly after a long pause. His tone was distant and cold; there was no even a trace of compassion and kindness.

"You are right, sire. I am utterly shocked," Guy confessed.

Guy felt as if a torrent of water cascaded down from the ceiling. Yet, he wasn't drowning in a dark lake of despair. Somehow, he managed to find someone's hand, and he clutched it as his last saving grace. Guy removed iron chains from his heart. He could breathe easier. He was free.

"Any other questions, Gisborne?" Richard apparently was in the mood to assert his royal authority.

Breathing heavily, Guy's eyes roamed over the lion's features. "Why didn't our father believe that I am his son if my mother was his mistress?"

The king looked pensive. "My mother, Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine, told me a long and sad story about Lady Ghislaine de Bailleul, later of Gisborne." He paused, looking at Guy, assessing his mental state. "She was young, beautiful, and naïve. Our father was a handsome and powerful man at his prime, all the more the King of England, who seduced many young ladies of quality. I think she was smitten with his attention and generosity." He chuckled darkly. "Our father was a generous lover, bestowing upon his mistresses expensive gifts and trinkets which later could be converted into lovely gold coin."

"I think that my mother was with… the king because she loved him or at least liked him, not for gifts. Mother was born in a wealthy family, and it was not her fault that the king wanted her to be his lover," Guy countered, and Marian could see that there was the fury behind his coldness.

"You misunderstood me, Gisborne. I don't blame your mother, for I know how our father seduced and charmed ladies," Richard elaborated in an astonishingly calm voice. "Only God may know how many times father cheated on my mother, his Queen, and how unhappy and miserable he made her life."

"I have heard a lot about the despicable treatment of Queen Eleanor by King Henry," Guy said.

"You don't know even half of what our father did to my mother." The lion's face got a contemptuous look. "That's why I never condemned my mother for having extramarital affairs and for giving birth to Robin."

"Very true," Melisende said stringently.

The king stared at Guy. "My mother told me that Lady Ghislaine had been pursued by many suitors even before she became the king's mistress. There was one man who wanted to marry her, but she rejected him. Later he watched closely Lady Ghislaine's affair with the king, plotting revenge in his mind. That man learnt that the king had gotten the lady pregnant – she was carrying you, Sir Guy."

"Please tell me everything," Guy begged, impatient to hear the rest.

"It is what I am going to do, Gisborne," the king continued. "This man spread rumors that someone of the courtiers was Lady Ghislaine's lover, simultaneously with the king."

"Wasn't that man thinking that he could fail?" Guy was intrigued.

Richard studied Guy, gazed at him with dark amusement that seemed to bring a rush of crimson to every limb and particle of Guy's flesh. "Sir Guy, everything was very simple," he said in a tone edged with the same amusement. "It was a calculated risk on his part, displaying his ultimate desire to take revenge for rejection, but it was exactly what destroyed our father's trust to Lady Ghislaine."

"My God," Guy muttered; his heart was broken.

"It is in Uncle Henry's fashion," Melisende opined.

"Don't be so sad, Gisborne," Richard told him with feigned care in his voice; he was cruelly mocking Guy. "Out of all the people here, you surely cannot be the most heartbroken one."

"Definitely," Melisende agreed.

Marian flushed. It was the moment when she wanted to slap hard both Richard and Melisende across their faces. It was horribly of her to admit such thoughts, but she could do nothing with herself.

Richard lifted his hand and pointed at Gisborne. "For the said reason, Sir Guy of Gisborne, our father never believed that you are his son. You shouldn't worry –you lost nothing from not knowing about your true parentage for so long because our father was a really bad father," he continued in an incredibly taunting tone. "Our father's pride was injured by your mother's supposed betrayal, and it prompted him to set out for revenge on Lady Ghislaine for her infidelity to him when he had a chance; this is the reason why he sacrificed you, Sir Guy, in our deal for the sake of Robin's life."

"Who was the man?" Tight-lipped, Guy gritted his teeth.

"Lord Peter Vaisey," Richard said shortly.

Guy shook his head in disbelief, and, his face clearing, asked in a hoarse voice, "Vaisey?"

"Yes," the king confirmed. "Gisborne, you have placed yourself into the most amusing situation _by pledging your loyalty to the man who ruined your mother's reputation in the eyes of your real father_."

"Good Heavens! Are you sure, milord?" Guy blinked at him, his mouth dry, his pulse galloping.

"My mother, Queen Eleanor, told me that," Richard said firmly.

"Another question, sire. How do you know so many details about the relations between Malcolm of Locksley and my mother?" Guy asked straightforwardly.

"I have my own spies," Richard supplied in a voice that left no room for further discussions. He didn't intend to say anything about Malcolm's survival in the fire.

An oppressive silence reigned over the chamber. Marian and Melisende wanted to break an increasingly hostile silence that grew between them, but the words stuck in their throats, and Guy's angry expression didn't help. Marian risked another glance at Guy, wondering with a dull ache in her heart at how swiftly and dramatically everything was changing in their lives; now they knew that Vaisey had stood behind the tragedy with King Henry's repudiation of Guy's true parentage.

Heat and anger coiling in his stomach, Guy started laughing halfheartedly, his arms outstretched in the sheriff's manner. "I have never suspected how truly evil and cunning Vaisey has always been. What a blind fool I was!" At the bare thought about the sheriff, he tightened up his sword belt and strode back to the window, looking into the darkness, into the harbor of Acre. "I will kill Vaisey," he said resolutely.

King Richard sighed. "A man must follow his conscience, but not in this case. You may try to take Vaisey's life, but this is not what I want for this traitor." He was quiet for a minute, thinking hard about Guy's words, then went on. "My absence in England meant dark days for the kingdom and the nation. Vaisey's death should be public and humiliating; we can kill him only if there is no way to detain him or if we need to save someone and have to kill him."

Melisende tossed her red-gold curls. "I agree with you, Richard. This beast murdered Robin, and I myself would gladly kill him, but a public, bloodthirsty execution would serve him better."

"Gisborne, I pardoned you and told you the truth only because of Robin. I would have done everything for Robin, and I kept my word," the king said in a silken voice.

Richard looked between Guy and Marian with the expression of innate tenderness as he was thinking of Robin, which was oddly unfamiliar for the king's guests who had known him more as the mighty Richard the Lionheart, the ruthless, cruel, and vengeful warrior King. Yet, the man, whom Marian and Guy saw in front of them and who talked to them during the whole evening, was different from the image they had carried in their mind for years.

"I understand everything perfectly well." Guy nodded his head, a slight, thin smile crossing his features at the thought of Robin and his true relationship with the king.

The king looked between Marian and Guy. "I hope you understand that everything we discussed today is a grave secret." He narrowed his eyes to slits. "Nobody should know the truth about Robin's true parentage and what happened many years ago." His eyes flared up with fire. "If you ever say a word about the matter to anyone, it will automatically result in your death; nothing will save you."

Marian and Guy nodded, knowing that Richard was not joking. The king wasn't trying to intimidate them – their liege only told them the truth about their fates if they had revealed the secret to anyone.

"I swear on all I hold dear that I will keep everything in secret." Guy meant exactly what he said.

"And so will I," Marian added.

"It is in your interests," the monarch said, his gaze hardening. "I know that Robin did some doubtful things to you, Gisborne. He told me about them." He sighed. "Robin always shared with me the things that troubled his conscience, like I shared with him many private things about my own life."

"There are some very personal things. I don't think that–" Guy wanted to say that he didn't want to hear about the cases when Robin wronged him, but the lion interrupted him.

The king waved his head for silence. "Gisborne, I don't care what you think. I have my own opinion about what you should know and what you shouldn't. Is that clear?"

Guy felt hidden danger under the king's silken voice. "Yes, it is clear, sire."

"Very well then," the king said haughtily. "I know about the case with the arrow that wounded the priest in Locksley. Robin was ashamed of himself for lying that it was your arrow. It seems to me that Robin had received a good lesson from that case – he never lied again."

Marian smiled. "This is what I thought."

Richard continued staring at Guy. "Gisborne, you have to know that Robin wanted to find you in Normandy many years ago; he sent his men from Locksley there to find you. But I did everything to persuade Robin to forget about you, and I even sent my own men to intercept his people in order to stop them before they could have discovered your location." He glanced away. "I couldn't risk Robin's life when our father was alive. Yet, Robin himself tried to find you before the Crusade, but he failed."

Guy paled in shock; guilt smote him. "I didn't know."

The lion shrugged. "Well, Robin and you never talked. Instead, you only tried to kill each another."

Marian felt a pang of sorrow at the news that Robin had tried to find Guy. Her eyes registered an embarrassing look on Guy, infinitely unfamiliar on him as compared to his usual cold and harsh look.

"I regret that we had no more time with Robin." Guy was almost guiltily thankful to Richard for telling him the truth, including some intimate things Robin had shared with his king. Shock, regret, disbelief, and guilt chained him to the floor as surely as iron manacles, and he tiredly hung his head. "We could have been friends in childhood, but we never were. We could have been step-brothers if my mother had married Robin's father, but instead they died."

The king's mouth tightened, his eyes blank. "Let bygones be bygones, Sir Guy. I hope now you will stop hating Robin."

Guy was ready to sink into the earth. "I no longer hate Robin."

Marian looked at the king. "My liege, I have a question about my father."

The lion smiled at that. "Lady Marian, I have always been very fond of Sir Edward of Knighton. Your father was a good man. He was loyal, honest, intelligent, and clever. Even though he didn't look like a brave and strong warrior after the death of your mother, Lady Kate of Knighton, there was an invisible strength in him, in his gentle heart, which only those who were close to him could see."

Marian smiled. "Thank you for your kind words, milord."

The king studied Marian; he really liked Marian. "Sir Edward of Knight was Sir Malcolm of Locksley's old friend. He knew our secret from the beginning." He run his hand through his red-gold hair. "Sir Edward was Robin's guardian until I assumed this responsibility, of course, only formally. Sir Edward helped me defend Robin from Bailiff Longthorn when the vile man kidnapped Robin and tried to kill him."

"My father loved Robin like his own son." Marian smiled wistfully. "Robin also loved him."

"I know. Sir Edward was a sort of a parental figure for Robin." the king slid his hands to the elbows of his armchair; his hands had been folded over his chest before. "Robin often spoke about Sir Edward and you when he served in the private guard here, in the Holy Land."

Marian's eyes grew wider in amazement. "Robin spoke to you about us, didn't he?"

The lion pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Yes, he did." He shook his head. "Everything is like I thought," he added, but he didn't voice that she didn't understand Robin very well.

"I am sorry, my liege?" Marian looked bewildered.

"I mean that Robin was a very reserved person. He was his true himself only with the closest friends," the king offered a hasty explanation. "As for your father, Lady Marian, my mother and I respected him very much and held him in a very high regard. We owe Sir Edward a lot for his help to raise Robin."

Marian's face brightened. "There is no debt, sire. My father protected Robin out of his love and respect for Sir Malcolm and for Robin himself. I think he kept the secret out of his duty to Queen Eleanor."

Richard gave Marian nearly a paternal smile. "My lady, please accept you my most sincere condolences with your father's tragic death. I am grieving for his death, even if it is a glorious end for a man loyal to his king and country." He smiled. "Your father was one of the most loyal men I have ever met, Lady Marian. I deeply respected him."

"Thank you, milord," Marian said, her voice tremulous with tears. She really appreciated the king's kind and respectful words about her poor father.

The lion smiled. "Welcome, my lady."

Guy ran a hand through his thick raven hair. "Sir Edward was a good man. He was loyal to you, sire, even though the sheriff ordered to keep him under arrest and threw him into the dungeon."

Truth be told, Guy of Gisborne didn't think that Edward of Knighton had died a heroic death. He thought that Edward had died as a mere low criminal – in the street and at the hands of the corrupted churchman. He believed that Hood could have done more to protect Edward from the sheriff's men if they had run away together. But Marian didn't need to know about that.

Richard gave Guy a slighting look. "And you, Sir Guy, could look calmly as Vaisey made the old and good man suffer?"

"I could do nothing. Sir Edward was against Prince John and the sheriff. He refused to sign the Pact of Nottingham," Guy defended himself. "If I had tried to save Sir Edward, I would have ended up in the dungeon, together with Marian and Sir Edward. There was no way I could have saved him."

The king shook his head disapprovingly. "Gisborne, you could do many things to help Sir Edward, Sir Guy. You were the sheriff's henchman. The issue is that you didn't want to do that."

"Sire, I–" Richard interrupted Guy.

The king smiled with a predatory smile. "It would have never been practical for you to have a clash with the sheriff, who promised you so much power." He smirked. "As you, Sir Guy, said, if you kill me, you will have power beyond measure. Wasn't that the reason why you served Vaisey for so long? Isn't that why you tried to kill me? Isn't that why you didn't want to break from Vaisey for so many years?"

"I… I… don't know." Guy glanced at Marian. He looked embarrassed and apologetic. He was shocked that the king had heard his conversation with Marian in the courtyard; it was even worse than he had thought before. "Maybe I could have done more for Sir Edward."

"Yes, Guy, you definitely could," Marian agreed.

"I am sorry." Guy had nothing else to offer.

Richard flashed a dark but mocking smile. "I don't know you very well, Sir Guy, but I have seen a lot of people like you. I know what they crave to have and what they can do for power." His face regained its blankness. "I have the realm full of traitors who would run to my brother today or tomorrow if he gives them a promise to grant them an Earldom or lands, or appoint them on a profitable position of power."

"Sire, sometimes life makes us do what we don't want to do." Guy went still, looking embarrassed.

The king laughed floutingly. "Gisborne, don't be embarrassed. Did you consider me a foolish and weak King, who can only fight in the Holy Land and who cares only about fighting in the godforsaken lands?" He let out a scornful chuckle. "Isn't that what you told Lady Marian in the courtyard in Imuiz?"

"This man really wronged you so much, Richard," Melisende intervened, shocked.

"I am sorry, milord. I… want to apologize… for my words," Guy stammered.

"There is nothing you can do to excuse your disrespectful behavior towards your king," Richard said.

Melisende made a face. "Sir Guy, shame on you! This is absolute disrespect to your liege!"

Marian barely repressed her anger, struggling with herself not to have her tongue loosened and make a courteous verbal lash out at the king's cousin, but she would have told Melisende many things if they had been alone now. Quarreling with Melisende could have bad consequences for Guy and herself.

Guy wasn't angry; he was uncomfortable and guilty. "I beg my pardon, sire. I can say nothing more."

"Calm down and relax, Sir Guy." Richard's face turned serious. "As I said, Gisborne, I know people like you. You are rational and practical to the core. You may feel remorse, but you still see practicality in everything. Your head will never be filled with idealistic believes and illusions." He smiled with a little smile. "If I ever need your services, I will let you know. I never forget debt my subjects owe me."

"I am at your disposal, sire." Guy bowed submissively.

A deep silence settled over the chamber; everyone was absorbed in their own thoughts.

"There are too many traitors in England and the Angevin Empire. They deserve to die deaths of high traitors – painful and gruesome deaths," Melisende spoke after a long pause, her voice edged with cold disdain. "I hate traitors. I hate those who try to kill their King whom they swore their fealty to and whom they must serve with honesty and obedience."

Guy of Gisborne gazed away. Melisende was like Robin in many aspects, like her hatred for traitors. Marian cringed at the ruthlessness and chilliness in Melisende's voice.

Richard reached out for Melisende with his arm; he took her hand in his and their fingers entwined. "My darling, believe me, many traitors will pay with their lives. I have great plans for my enemies."

"Richard, I want Sheriff Peter Vaisey of Nottingham die a painful and brutal death. I want the Black Knights dead," Melisende said, her voice firm and edged with arctic chillness; but her face was calm and impassive. "The regicide attempts on your life and Robin's death must be avenged."

"You will have their blood. I swear that they will pay for the death of every man who died in battles with the Black Knights," Richard said in a hissing tone. "They will pay for Robin's death."

"Blood for blood, eye for eye, and tooth for tooth," Melisende retorted, her hands folded on her lap.

"They will pay with blood for Robin's death," Richard he hissed between his teeth; his hand touched a golden cross on his chest. "They will pay for taking Robin from us."

Marian and Guy shared uneasy glances. They both understood the grief of the king's cousin, though they saw that the royal lady was entirely filled with revenge dreams. They didn't criticize her for her hatred of Vaisey and the Black Knights. After all, the sheriff and the Black Knights wanted to kill her royal cousin, while Vaisey killed Robin. It was understandable that Melisende loved Robin and was grieving for his death.

Yet, it was clear that Melisende could have been very cruel in rage or if she was possessed by hatred. She was unconditionally and utterly loyal to England and the King of England. She was England's lady through and through, like Robin was England's man to the core. It also was obvious that Melisende was an honest lady, bluntly honest like Robin; she also could have been kind and compassionate, and she had much kindness in her heart. At the same time, Melisende was similar to the Plantagenets in many qualities, although she was not as villainous and cruel as Prince John. The young and beautiful Countess of Huntingdon had a deep potential for ruthlessness.

King Richard and Lady Melisende were functioning on two levels – England's level and personal level, and they had two faces for different occasions. The regalness and coldness existed on the surface. Beneath the façade lay human beings with their own emotions, feelings regrets, burdens, and troubles. But Richard and Melisende were burdened with state affairs and political problems, which had a significant impact on their personalities. Those who weren't born in royal families didn't understand them and didn't see their true personalities through masks of courtesy and regalness. They could have been compassionate and kind, generous and caring, cunning and cruel; they both were passionate people who loved fiercely and hated ferociously. Beneath their royal appearance, they also had serious, dark, ruthless thoughts that would take more than the heat of a dying fire to brighten, and if they needed that, they could destroy everyone and everything that stood on their way.

The monarch sighed deeply. "If I get back to England alive and safe, I swear that all the Black Knights will pay for high treason. Lord Vaisey will regret that he was born," he avowed.

"They all deserve death. They deserve to be hanged, drawn, and quartered," Melisende hissed, her eyes sparkling with sheer hatred, but her face cold and expressionless.

Marian lowered her head. Guy eyed Richard and Melisende thoughtfully, thinking that he was a lucky man to be pardoned by the King of England. Richard was a vindictive and cruel man, especially if he was in rage and if it suited the interests of his family and his own interests.

Richard pursed his lips; his face hardened. "I cannot execute John and I don't want to punish him with death because he is my brother, although I despise his treacherous, low soul and I am fed up with his bloody tricks." He turned his gaze at Guy. "I will pardon many nobles, including English lords and very many Norman lords, as well as other nobles from my continental territories." The blue flame of hatred coruscated in his blue eyes darkening with rage. "But everyone, who signed the Pact of Nottingham, will be executed for high treason. It is a matter of duty and honor for me to make them pay."

Melisende sighed. "Excellent."

Richard looked at Marian, feeling that he had to give her some sort of explanation. "Those nobles, who signed the Pact of Nottingham, caused too much harm to their King and their own countrymen. They tried to kill me so many times that I had lost too many loyal and good men, my soldiers." He sighed. "Too many people died because of the Black Knights from England – Vaisey's friends."

Melisende turned away, looking into the flames. "Sir Guy, you are forever in debt to my cousin and to Robin," she broke the long silence. "You really deserve to be executed."

The look on Guy's face was priceless – he looked as troubled as a man before crucifixion. "I know that I don't deserve your pardon. I swear that I will do everything to keep the peace with you, my liege. I will be loyal to my king and England."

"Thank you for pardoning Guy." Marian was annoyed with the necessity to thank the king again, but she also knew that it was necessary to do if they wished to remain untouched by the king's wrath.

The king watched the flame shadows lick against the walls decorated with tapestries with the whimsical pictures of patterns of crimson blood. "Thank Robin and God." He let out a sign. "Gisborne, Robin pleaded me to pardon you several days before regicide attempt, but I would have never done that." He glanced into Guy's eyes. "Only one thing saved you – Robin's deathbed plea." His facial muscles tensed. "I couldn't reject Robin's request when he gave his life for me and was dying in my arms."

Guy raised his brows, but said nothing. He was stunned that Robin had pleaded on his behalf before they had arrived in Acre and attempted to kill the king in Imuiz. It meant that Robin had learnt the truth and had wanted to correct the mistakes and injustice of the past. Guy was again torn by guilt.

Richard rose to his feet. He groaned in pain as even simple movement still troubled his wound a great deal. He came to the door and walked out of the chamber. In a moment, he returned with Roger de Tosny, who looked worried. The king came to the table with a huge pile of parchments and books.

"If you are loyal to your king, Guy of Gisborne, then your station is confirmed and you are safe from my retribution. I have already signed a royal pardon for you," the king stated, sweeping aside a pile of parchments to sit on the table beside his chair. He grabbed one parchment and motioned de Tosny to come closer. "Roger, give it to Sir Guy. These documents officially make Gisborne exempt of any prosecution in England and on any territory of the Angevin Empire."

"Thank you, milord," Guy said, half apologetically. Even with so many conflicting loyalties and emotions swirling through him, he couldn't deny that he didn't deserve absolute pardon from the king.

The king looked at de Tosny. "Roger, I know that you and Sir Guy were friends in the past. You will accompany Sir Guy and Lady Marian in their journey back to the Angevin Empire. You will sail from Acre in three days." His gaze shifted to Guy. "I think, Gisborne, you will like the company of Allan on your way back. I pardoned Allan and he is free to leave. Much and John will also accompany you."

Guy and Marian could only stare at the king in startled amazement that momentarily lightened their features. Despite his betrayal, Guy was pleased that Allan would go with them. Also, they both were relieved to leave Acre, for there was only death around them. Also, Guy disliked that John and Much would travel with them, knowing that there would be many arguments on the way back to England.

De Tosny could only stare at the king in astonishment. "I will if you wish, milord. What about you?"

Richard turned his gaze at the flickering torches on the opposite wall of the chamber. "I am staying here for about two weeks more. I haven't completely recovered yet."

"As you command, sire," de Tosny responded, bowing his head submissively.

A deep sigh of grief escaped the king's lips. "I hope that they will find… Robin while I am still here."

De Tosny cringed, struggling to keep his composure and his voice steady; he was grieving for Robin's death. "Monsieur Henry de Champagne is doing everything he can. The sandstorm covered the city with too much sand. They are digging sand around Acre and in Imuiz."

The king clenched his fists, rage coursing through him. "I want them to dig the whole Imuiz and everything around this town until they find him." His voice was low and he barely held to his mouth in a vain attempt to stop the trembling of his bottom lip.

"As… you… command, milord," de Tosny repeated, his voice cracking.

Marian sighed deeply and glanced into the window. Melisende bowed her regal head, looking at the crimson floor. Guy did the same. Grief swept over them. At the thoughts about Robin, the presence in the chamber decorated in the color of blood was unbearable.

The king snapped his fingers. "You may leave now, Sir Guy and Lady Marian. We have discussed everything." He repressed a groan as he moved his shoulder that was still very sore and at timesgave him much pain especially. "I am feeling quite unwell now and prefer to be alone."

"I will help you lie down, Richard," Melisende said.

Marian dropped a curtsy, murmuring words of gratitude and wishes of speedy recovery. She was happy to leave the bloody room, which reminded her about the nightmare in which she saw Robin in blood. Stiffly, Guy bowed and without another word stalked from the room, leading Marian behind himself.

They left the king's private chamber and went down the staircase. As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Marian suddenly stopped and gasped for air. The sharp, searing pain twisted her inside out, and she clutched her midsection. Her head was spinning, her vision blurry, and it was oddly difficult to breath. She would have lost her balance if Guy hadn't rushed to her to support her.

Guy looked frightened. He wrapped his arms around Marian's waist. "Marian, what happened?"

"Lady Marian, are you alright?" Roger de Tosny asked with concern.

Marian was quiet for a while, her heart beating wildly in her thorax. The pain lessened slightly, and she drew a wheezing breath. "I am feeling better now. I don't know what happened."

"Can you walk, Marian?" Guy continued supporting her.

She nodded her head. "Yes, I can," she said breathlessly. "I am fine now. Let's go." She didn't know what happened to her, but now she again felt alright: there was pain, but not a physical one. Her pain was different – her pain was coming from her bleeding heart that was broken when Robin died.

Nobody of them could know that somewhere in the heart of the desert, quite far from Acre, the middle-aged Saracen woman sat near the makeshift bed, looking at the young sandy-haired man, who was slowly dying from high fever, suffering in the throes of agony, thrashing in fever-fueled nightmares, and writhing in pain if he was touched. The woman's heart was fraught with sorrow and fear because she wasn't sure that the man would survive until tomorrow. The man was more dead than alive, and his life was in the gravest danger. It seemed that only divine intervention could save him.

* * *

><p><em>I hope you truly enjoyed this chapter and the plot.<em>

_The triangle Robin/King Richard/Guy has been resolved. The mysteries are unveiled._

_I tried to make Guy's meeting with King Richard interesting and realistic. Richard cannot be happy to see Guy and he cannot just pardon Guy and embrace him as an old friend. Richard is cold and harsh with Guy, at times he cruelly mocks Guy and he loathes Guy for what he did to him. _

_Do you love my King Richard? I think he is better than on the show. _

_I think that writers often make Guy pardoned by King Richard too easily, which is a kind of unrealistic. Richard cannot just pardon Guy for nothing. Theoretically, even if we assume that Guy and Robin survive the siege of Nottingham in S3 and then fight for Richard while he is in captivity, there is still a high probability that the king wouldn't pardon Guy; regicide is a grave crime. After all, Guy attempted regicide twice and killed Marian in the BBC's show, while no King ever looks positively at those who try to kill him. Guy could have been executed even after Richard's return. _

_In this story/novel, Guy is pardoned by the king because of Robin's deathbed request, and King Richard will not forget about Guy's debt. Guy will have to prove his loyalty to the king. Also, now Guy knows the secret of Robin's true parentage, which is a grave and bloody secret: mysteries of the past tie Guy to Richard and the Plantagenet royal house. The knowledge of this secret not only makes Guy free of his demons, but also makes him "trapped" because Richard is not stupid and he is not going to just forget that he revealed the dangerous truth to Guy. The king will do everything in his power to make sure that nothing ever slips from Guy's tongue. Don't worry – Guy is not going to die._

_I was asked many times in private messages and in reviews why I killed off Robin. So why did Robin need to become the main victim in regicide in Acre? Firstly, Robin's death is always an overdramatic event, and I thrive in drama and tragedy. Secondly, I needed to find an effective method to resolve the lethal triangle Robin/Richard/Guy. Thirdly, Robin's death is the great catalyst for Guy's redemption in the context of this story/novel._

_Now separately about Guy's path to redemption. I've always believed that Guy needs to be broken completely, inside and out, before he is ready for redemption. Why does Guy need to be broken? Because Guy is not as strong and willful as Robin is and he cannot just break from the darkness until something "makes" him do that. Unfortunately, Guy can become his own savior only after he destroys someone he loves or if something tragic happens which pushes him to change. On the show, Guy killed Marian in a jealous rage and the guilt of taking her life tormented him in season 3._

_In this story/novel, Marian's death at Guy's hand or death of any other character, excluding Robin's death, would have never become the effective catalyst for Guy's redemption. Now, as the mysteries are unveiled, Guy's world is completely broken because everything he did after he had met Vaisey ultimately had no sense. I deliberately introduced the storyline that Vaisey had once been Ghislane's suitor and had been rejected by her: the sheriff is guilty of making King Henry believe that Guy is not his son, so Vaisey's wickedness turns out to be the initial reason for Guy's further misery. And later Vaisey hires Guy in Normandy, almost forcing him to work for him. In the next chapters, you will see how broken Guy is and how he hits the rock bottom._

_I saw in many reviews that many people were shocked and angry at me for killing off Robin, and I received many angry messages from readers that Robin is dead and if I don't bring him back, they will stop reading the story. Some fans of Guy were happy with Robin's death. Opinions differed significantly, though I cannot understand why some readers wanted Robin dead so much. I'm sorry, but it is beyond my understanding how anyone can wish Robin dead. Robin is a great man and a wonderful character, a really lovely creature, and I love and respect him very much. _

_Is Robin really dead? Truth be told, I thought that you could see my trick in the last chapter: Robin wasn't buried and his body was lost in the sandstorm, Archer was lost with him, which means a lot. Moreover, there is the description of what Robin sees when he is dead: he sees the light of Heaven, there are flashbacks of his past, and he hears the voice talking to him, which actually is clinical death in modern interpretation. When Archer awoke in the desert and noticed that Robin's skin was warmer than his own, it meant that Robin was already running high fever. Archer also took Robin to the cave, where they were protected from the sandstorm, so their survival looks realistic._

_In this chapter, I added the last paragraph to give my readers a glimpse of Robin. I felt you needed that because many of my readers failed to understand my trick, thought some guessed correctly what I did to poor Robin. Robin will re-appear in several chapters. So far we don't need him in the plot._

_Another very important reason for Robin's death is that I want to make Robin disillusioned. Guy has redemption arc, and Robin has disillusionment arc. On the show, Robin is an idealist who he fights for universal peace and absolute justice – for the things that never exist in real world, which makes Robin's fight for justice futile in the long run. If Robin survives, his death has a significant impact on his personality, including disillusionment as one of the consequences (normal psychological thing after near-death experiences). It is going to happen to Robin: Robin is going to be quite a different man, but these changes are actually very interesting._

_Sorry for my ramblings. I had to explain why I "killed off" Robin because too many people asked about that and were actually not very fond of this twist. As you see, Robin's "death" is actually a very dramatic, beautiful, tragic, heartbreaking, life-changing, and necessary twist!_

**_Chapters 8, 9, and 10 are the culmination of this story. So I beg you to leave at least a small review because I am really worried about these chapters. I feel very nervous. I need so much to know what you think!_**

_If you find any typos and/or mistakes here, please let me know about them in a private message._

_Thank you for reading this chapter._

_Yours faithfully, Penelope Clemence_


	11. Chapter 10 Grief

**Chapter 10**

**Grief**

Sir Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, appeared in the corridor, heading to the king's private chambers, and Sir Roger de Tosny bowed to him. Leicester's expression turned into disdain as soon as he saw Guy and Marian behind Roger; then Robert turned his gaze at de Tosny.

"I am still mentally in Imuiz. I cannot forget… what happened there," the Earl of Leicester said.

"I understand," Roger de Tosny answered. "I still cannot believe that Robin is gone."

The Earl of Leicester looked solemn, his eyes vacant and dull, and only his boyish features made him look similar to a cheeky rogue. He was stunningly handsome in his high black leather boots, black silk tunic, and black flat pants; the collar and the sleeves of his tunic were trimmed with delicate black Venetian lace. A golden scimitar hung at his waist enveloped with a beautiful belt jeweled with emeralds; it was King Richard's gift on his last birthday.

Marian eyed Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester. Her mind raced through the memories of the past, and she remembered, now much better, Robert from the times when she met him at the royal court in Poitiers. He was like Robin – the heir to the Earldom of Leicester, a young lord as handsome, rich, charming, spirited, mischievous, and outspoken as Robin; he had become Richard Plantagenet's grand favorite and close friend earlier than Robin met Richard.

Leicester studied Marian, his expression cold, as well as full of himself and very haughty. His eyes were pale green, but they were darkened with fury at the sight of Guy of Gisborne. Despite his angry expression, Leicester reminded Marian of the better times and of Robin, for he was Robin's best friend among the nobility and Robin's copy in many aspects; he was even Robin's coeval.

Guy examined Leicester with interest. He had heard so much about the man and had once been the lover of his elder sister, Lady Amicia de Beaumont. He thought that Leicester looked like a courtier in mourning, not like a Crusader. Leicester was so handsome, so elegant, so perfumed that it was hard to believe he could use even a knife, all the more slaughter the Saracens. Yet, King Richard himself praised Leicester's brilliant skills with a sword and called him the best swordsman in Christendom.

Leicester turned pale as death. "I would have done everything to swap places with Robin." His voice took a lower octave. "But I wasn't there to save Robin and the king."

De Tosny sighed heavily. "Robert, please don't blame yourself."

"A part of me died together with Robin." Leicester's gaze was the gaze of a wounded animal preparing for death. "I don't know how to live after his death."

"You will find a way," de Tosny. "Robin will always be in our hearts."

The Earl of Leicester shook his head. "I have only King Richard now. I will live only for him."

"Robert, King Richard has always loved you more than anyone else, excluding Robin. Now he has only you and he needs you a lot," de Tosny said sympathetically. There was no envy or jealousy in his voice; he only acknowledged the fact.

"I know." Leicester nodded. "I am trying to be with him as much as I can. He really needs me now." He paused, sighing heavily. "But we will have to part our ways for a while because I have to go to Normandy to lead the army against King Philippe's troops."

"The king has already told me the same," de Tosny confirmed.

"I know," Leicester notified.

"Are you going to the king, Robert? He is feeling unwell," de Tosny announced.

"The king's page visited me ten minutes ago. King Richard asked me to come to his chamber," Leicester answered. "I am doing what my liege ordered me."

De Tosny felt uncomfortable. "Of course, Robert."

The Earl of Leicester turned his gaze at Guy and Marian. "Guy of Gisborne," he spat. If looks could kill, his face would have done exactly the same to Guy.

Guy steeled himself against the man's contempt and hatred; he bowed deeply, showing his courtesy. "Lord Leicester, I trust you are doing well," he said coldly.

"Gisborne, you are wearing black! Are you in mourning for Robin?" Leicester asked contemptuously, his eyes darkening. "Admit truthfully that you are not in mourning. You wear black because Lord Vaisey demanded that from you so long ago."

"Black is not his color. He will change his style soon," Marian hurried to say.

The Earl of Leicester eyed Marian, then turned to Guy. "Gisborne, you must be happy now when Robin is dead," he said with such chilliness in his voice that everyone's blood ran cold.

"Believe me or not, but I am not pleased that Robin is dead," Guy parried. He said the truth, but he knew that Leicester would never believe him.

"Hah," Leicester barked. "Have I gone mad that I hear these words from the man who tried to kill my best friend so many times?" He started applauding, his expression changing into sheer contempt. "Bravo, Gisborne! You are lying so well, but I see what you have beneath your face; I see what you represent – the inky darkness and sheer evil which lived in your heart since your early youth."

"Lord Leicester, please be courteous towards Guy," Marian asked politely.

Leicester scanned Marian. "That's none of your concern, Lady Marian of Knighton." He pointed a finger at Marian and Guy. "You brought only misery into Robin's life and finally killed him! Do you want to hurt someone else, Sir Guy and Lady Marian?"

"Robert, please control your temper," de Tosny requested.

Leicester ignored de Tosny's pleas; he stared stonily at Guy, his gaze radiating hatred. "I would have killed you, Gisborne, if Robin hadn't beseeched the king to pardon you before he… died." He swallowed hard. "But if there is God in the world, you will be tormented until Judgment Day." His gaze shifted to Marian. "As for you, Lady Marian, I can only say that you deserve only cold disdain."

Roger de Tosny glanced away. Marian shuddered in shock. Guy cursed under his breath. Leicester drew himself up with the bearing of one of those high-and-mighty nobles whom Guy loathed; his arrogance and righteousness also was the feature he had always despised in Robin.

"If you dare do something to Marian, I will kill you," Guy hissed in a low, threatening voice. "You are an arrogant, spoiled brat, who sees nothing behind his own nose."

Leicester laughed cynically. "Gisborne, you always said the same about Robin, didn't you?" He laughed again. "Blah-di-blah-di-blah, you are so stupid, Gizzy. If you want to fight with me and win, you should take more lessons of swordplay, you incompetent idiot." He parodied the sheriff, knowing from Robin how Vaisey had always humiliated his henchman.

Guy seethed with anger. "Lord Leicester, you are… you are…" Words struck in his throat.

"Robert, please leave," de Tosny admonished. "We don't need a scandal."

Marian felt her stomach lurch in anger. "Lord Leicester, where did you get your manners? You look like a courtier, but speak like a naughty boy," she snapped wrathfully.

Leicester put a right hand on the hilt of his scimitar, expression angry, but he controlled his temper. "Lady Marian, before you tell me anything, you must look at yourself."

"Robert, stop!" de Tosny begged, almost in despair. "Don't let your grief cloud your judgment!"

Leicester measured de Tosny with a scornful look. "Where are your true allegiances, Roger? I know that you are siding with this traitor because he served you many years ago in Normandy." He shook his head. "Your captain is dead because of him, and you don't care."

"I care, Robert. I do–" de Tosny was interrupted.

"Liar," Leicester spat. He took a deep, steadying breath as he folded his arms over his chest to cover his trembling. "My best friend, my… beloved Robin, is dead! He was more than my brother! I would have died… for him, but he… is already dead!" His voice was cracking. "He is dead… because of the Black Knights, like Gisborne, and I will gladly kill each of them to avenge Robin's death!"

Marian and Guy were shocked with the colossal amount of raw pain in Leicester's eyes. Great grief showed in his face: he looked like a grief-possessed man in a grim, unholy light. Giving them a quick, hateful glance, Leicester fled the corridor, disappearing in the tower where the king's chambers were.

"I am sorry for Robert," Roger de Tosny broke a long silence. "I am very sorry."

"Lord Leicester has gone mad… with grief," Guy commented dryly, not quite caring about the man.

"Robert is not himself," de Tosny explained grimly. "Robert's friendship with Robin is famous. They were always together, always at the front of the events, always sacrificing everything for our king and England, always saving each other, always understanding even subtle changes in each other's moods."

"I understand his grief." Marian's expression was detached.

"Let's go," Guy barked, struggling to suppress his anger.

They walked in silence through another corridor. As they turned around the corner and passed another corridor, they unexpectedly stumbled into Sir Roger de Lacy, Baron of Pontefract, who was obviously heading to the king, like the Earl of Leicester.

De Lacy was dressed not like a Crusader, but like a man in mourning, like the Earl of Leicester: he wore a simple black doublet of black brocade, black flat pants, and a silk black shirt. He looked like a tragic hero, his sharp and dark handsomeness making him even more dangerous than Leicester looked. There was a jeweled belt around his waist, with a scimitar sheathed in a golden scabbard. Wearing jeweled belts was Aquitanian fashion, which both Leicester and de Lacy preferred.

Roger de Lacy stopped and stared at Guy of Gisborne, his cold green eyes blazing with hot anger and festering hatred. Marian involuntary recoiled from de Lacy, Guy blanched, and de Tosny only let out a sigh of frustration.

Roger de Lacy put a hand on the hilt of his sword. "Gisborne," he spat the name. "Still alive?"

Guy stared at de Lacy unflinchingly. "Monsieur de Lacy, I am glad to meet you," he answered politely, struggling with all his being not to lash out at the younger man. "King Richard pardoned me."

De Lacy glared at Guy. "I think you are getting far too excited about being pardoned by King Richard," he said harshly. "You should be in the chapel, trying to pray to God for the souls of the innocent people whom you killed in cold blood, like that poor boy, Kate of Locksley's brother." He laughed cynically. "You should pray for Robin whose request on the deathbed saved your life."

De Tosny was silent, knowing that he would be unable to calm down Roger de Lacy. De Lacy was even more intemperate than King Richard, and when he was angry, he was really dangerous.

"Sir Roger, please respect Guy," Marian said seriously.

"Marian, keep silent. Please stay out of this," Guy warned, his eyes darkening with rage. "What do you want to prove, Monsieur de Lacy? You think that aggression may take away your pain for Robin's loss?"

De Lacy was shaking with anger; his fingers clutched the hilt of his scimitar. "Robin of Locksley, Robert de Beaumont, Legrand de Walcott, Roger of Stoke, and I were friends since we had met each other on the knighthood training in Aquitaine many years ago." He paused and swallowed hard. "How many of us are still alive? And how many of us died because of the Black Knights?"

A long silence reigned. For an endless amount of time, Roger de Lacy and Guy of Gisborne stared at one another, silent, hateful, and angry. Marian and Roger de Tosny were simply quiet; a minute passed, and they still stood perfectly still, staring at de Lacy and Gisborne.

Guy sighed, understanding where de Lacy was going with his almost direct accusations. His nerves were rattled. "You want to tell me that I am guilty of their deaths?"

De Lacy gave a nod, his eyes burning with a peculiarly hateful glow. "You killed Roger of Stoke. Your friend Peter Vaisey killed Robin of Locksley and Legrand de Walcott," he hissed. "Do you think that I can forgive and forget about that?" He smiled morbidly. "I loved Roger of Stoke and Legrand de Walcott, but I loved Robin and love Robert more than them."

"We are also mourning for Robin," Marian broke in.

De Lacy's dark brows furrowed. "I remember you, Lady Marian, when I met you at the court in Poitiers, before King Richard's last war with King Henry."

"You remember me?" Marian was curious.

"I do," de Lacy said huskily. "You were betrothed to Robin at that time when you and your esteemed father came to the royal court in Poitiers." He smiled unpleasantly. "Robin was in love with you, my lady, but Robert and I told him that you would be unable to make him happy."

Marian decided to ignore his disrespect. "Lord de Lacy, I remember you as well. You were the young man who played chess with Robin in his bedchamber when once I came there."

"Exactly, my lady," de Lacy acknowledged. "It was a large and gracious bedchamber with the lofty ceiling which seemed to open on an Olympian expanse of blue and white clouds." He smiled as he saw the light of recognition in her eyes. "I see that now you remember how we met for the first time."

"Yes." Marian nodded.

De Lacy pointed a finger at Guy. "The hands of this traitor are in the blood of my friends! He will never wash away their blood!"

"Roger, you are better to go where you were heading," de Tosny intervened.

"I know what I am doing," de Lacy hissed.

"We should go before anger overwhelms you, Monsieur de Lacy," Marian snapped. "Guy has changed. He has become a better man." Her eyes sparkled. "He tried to save Robin from the sheriff, but we stood too far from them and Guy was injured by his own sister." She grimaced. "But you don't want to see more than there is at the surface, Monsieur de Lacy?"

"I agree. We should go," Guy's voice resonated.

"Bah!" Roger de Lacy mocked, applauding. "You want to go and live a happy life! I say No!" He was immensely angry. Bloodlust gripped his heart and he decided to kill Gisborne; he drew his scimitar.

Guy drew his broadsword. If the man was so determined to kill him, he would defend himself. He was an excellent swordsman, probably not as great as Robert de Beaumont and Roger de Lacy, as well as Robin of Locksley, but he was capable to give de Lacy a good fight.

Uttering some words of violence, Roger de Lacy strode forward and lashed out his silver scimitar in front of the older man. "I will kill you, Gisborne."

Marian hurled herself in front of de Lacy. "What are you going to do? I beg you, Sir Roger, please stop! You cannot kill Guy! Robin wanted Guy to live and be pardoned!"

"If Gisborne stays alive, he will kill someone else," de Lacy said coldly, pushing Marian away. "I am not going to risk the lives of others. Robin was too generous to his enemies."

De Tosny stepped between Marian and de Lacy. "Roger, please don't create deplorable incidents now."

"If I let Gisborne live, I must take his sword arm, so that he cannot take a sword anymore," Roger de Lacy announced; anger and hatred had overpowered him. "I hate him, but I can settle for merely cutting out his tongue and chopping off his hand."

Marian stared at de Lacy in horror. "No, you must be joking."

Guy pushed Marian away. "Lord de Lacy is serious," he said, knowing that the other man would gladly kill him on the spot. "After all, he became the infamous murderer after the massacre of Acre."

De Lacy's flashing eyes seemed to grow angrier and harder. "You want to say that King Richard is a murderer after he has pardoned you today, don't you?" His voice was shaking with anger.

Guy realized his mistake, but it was too late. "I didn't mean that."

"You meant exactly what you said." It was the moment of righteous anger for de Lacy. "You will pay."

Gritting his teeth, Roger de Lacy pushed Marian away so hard that she staggered backwards and almost fell to the floor. Marian was lightheaded and lost her balance, supported by Roger de Tosny.

De Lacy gave an inhuman way cry and lunged at Guy with utmost despair and ferocity. Guy blocked an overhead blow, but de Lacy lunged at him with another sophisticated blow – an overhead blow transforming in a crisscross blow at the level of Guy's chest. Guy barely managed to duck and save his life. De Lacy then grew furious and made a new assault.

Guy of Gisborne and Roger de Lacy traded fierce blows. De Lacy span and swung his scimitar in a circular blow, but Guy parried another blow, raising his sword and stabbing at de Lacy with a diagonal blow. But de Lacy blocked the blow and lunged at Guy again. De Lacy was too adroit and too quick, too fierce and too skillful with a sword, his fighting style quite similar to Robin's, apart from Robin's more gracious and more beautiful blows, as well as Robin's extravagant swirls.

"Stop! Please stop!" Marian pleaded.

"Roger and Guy, stop right now!" Roger de Tosny asked, trying to knock some sense into their heads.

"I didn't attack him! I didn't want to fight with him!" Guy shouted as he barely twisted his body to avoid the blade, and his rival again lunged quickly.

"You are a coward, Gisborne!" de Lacy shrilled as he made an elegant spin and then raised his scimitar to make an overhead blow, but Guy blocked it. "You can win a fight only when you stab from the back like you stabbed Robin in the Saracen attack and then almost killed the king!"

De Lacy and Gisborne circled each another. With a loud scream of a madman, Roger de Lacy swung his sword in a deadly arc. As the swords crossed, de Lacy lunged at Guy with a crisscross blow, and then Guy's sword dropped from his hand. De Lacy kicked Guy in the stomach, and Guy tumbled to the floor.

"No!" Marian screamed in horror, rushing to them.

"Roger, stop!" de Tosny shouted.

Their loud screams drew the occupants of the neighboring rooms into the corridor. Several Crusaders appeared in the corridor, looking at the scene unfolding before their eyes.

De Lacy raised his scimitar above Guy, preparing to strike a fatal blow. "Die now, bloody traitor!"

Guy thought that the man would kill him now, but instead no blow followed. He saw Marian throw herself at de Lacy and punch the enraged man on the nape of his head. De Lacy looked at Guy with deadly hatred in his eyes, but his vision was blurred. Guy watched Roger de Tosny drag de Lacy from him, and then his gaze stopped on Marian's frightened face.

Marian felt lightheaded from exhaustion and nervousness. She was shocked with what Roger de Lacy caused in an outburst of anger. The young Norman lord indeed had a hellish temper.

Guy scrambled to his feet. "We should go."

"I hate you, Gisborne! I will avenge Robin's death!" Roger de Lacy bawled out as several Crusaders were dragging him away from the corridor into another corridor.

§§§

Gisborne saw de Tosny's apologetic eyes, and he nodded at the man, silently thanking him for the interference and knowing that Roger would take care of his fuming comrade. De Tosny excused himself and walked away, determined to just look to it that nobody would try to take Guy's life again.

"Roger de Lacy has an awful temper. You were almost killed by him," Marian said quietly, looking in the direction where the Crusaders had disappeared.

Guy shrugged helplessly. "He is known as a hellish warrior."

"He should have controlled himself," Marian opined.

Suddenly, Guy looked pitiful. "But I cannot ignore the fact that three people out of his best friends are dead." He sighed. "And I murdered Roger of Stoke."

"I wasn't aware that you had murdered Roger of Stoke before you confessed to the king." The blood rose in Marian's veins at the thought of another man killed by Guy, another Robin's friend.

"Did you know him?" Guy inquired.

She looked at Guy, a wide, ingenuous smile on her face. "Yes, I did. I knew Roger of Stoke very well, much better than I have ever known Robert de Beaumont and Roger de Lacy. He was a good man, and he came to Huntingdon and Locksley rather often." She glanced away. "Roger genuinely liked me, and he was happy when Robin proposed to me and I accepted; I mean his first marriage proposal."

Suppressing an irritated sigh, Gisborne shot a stern glance at her. "And now you will blame me for his death like de Lacy and de Beaumont blamed me, won't you?"

"Yes, well, I can use many magic tricks on you from now on and blame you for many things." She looked at him questioningly. "But isn't that enough that you blame yourself?"

Guy looked troubled. "Yes, I do blame myself."

Marian's face hardened. "Now I know that you tried to kill Robin on the night of the Saracen attack."

Guy didn't reply, and Marian looked at him with cold disdain before her expression softened a little. Then she tugged at his sleeve, signaling that they should go. The Citadel of Acre was quiet and empty at that late hour. They walked through endless corridors as Guy was no longer a prisoner and could freely move within the walls of the castle.

Marian and Guy went to the courtyard, passed it, and then entered another tower. The torches of the guards resembled smoky flame in the darkness as they patrolled the area along the battlements. They moved in the labyrinth of dim corridors, praying that they wouldn't lose their way. Soon they stood near the door of Guy's bedchamber, in the corridor.

Guy looked at Marian in anticipation, while she stared broodingly into the dancing yellow flames of the torches. "I am relieved that it is over."

Marian eyed Guy. "How are you now, Guy?"

Guy swallowed audibly. "I am happy to be alive. Roger was right: Richard is craving for vengeance."

"Guy, you are sworn to King Richard now. He pardoned you and asked nothing in return."

His upper lip curled with some contempt. "I am sure that the king will never forget that I am in debt to him." He smirked. "He can ask me to do everything to prove my loyalty."

"And you will have to obey his orders to keep your head," Marian said shortly.

Guy rubbed his temples. "I will do that, but I hope that he will leave me in peace now."

"I have an impression that he is going to do exactly that."

"So it seems. But he can always change his mind."

"You mean that he can use you for his purposes," Marian said bluntly.

"Shhh," Guy whispered, putting a finger to her lips. "I bet there are many spies here."

Marian turned her gaze at Guy. "The king," she broke a long silence.

Guy arched his dark brows. "What?"

"He knows so many intimate details about your mother's affair with Sir Malcolm," Marian stated.

"Yes," he concluded. "I believe that he didn't tell us everything he knows. But asking him again will be equivalent to signing our death warrant."

Marian swallowed, but the intensity of the emotions was almost overpowering her. "Do you think that he was serious… when he warned us about the consequences if we don't keep silent?"

Guy shook his head. "The king was deadly serious. It was not a joke." He sighed. "We must never talk about it with anyone else. Otherwise each of us dies a premature death."

She nodded. "I understand. But otherwise we are not in danger, aren't we?"

Guy laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "No, we are not," he confirmed. "It is clear that the king is a man who keeps his word. Yet, if he is in an ugly temper and we are at fault, he won't want to see our faces at his court." His words were a lame attempt to joke.

"I have no doubt that the king's temper can send anyone to the gallows."

Guy sighed, and his sigh contained a curse. "The king is a powerful monarch. He can do whatever he wants," he said somewhat tersely. "And I had a feeling that the king despises me."

"King Richard has nothing to love you for," Marian opined. "After all, you tried to kill him, twice."

"I know. Our liege will never be fond of me." The feeling that his newly found half-brother despised him was not a pleasant thing at all.

"Guy, if you are loyal to the king, he will keep his word. You will be free from retribution."

"Yes."

"Yet, the king was really harsh to you on some occasions, and so was Lady Melisende."

"It is good that you were silent." Guy leaned forward, closer to her. "Speak quieter please, Marian. It is better to be safe than sorry."

"I know."

"King Richard liked you very much," Guy supposed, with a little smile on his pale face.

"He liked me? Are you kidding me?" She laughed bitterly. "I hurt Robin, and he loves Robin so much."

"No, I am serious. Your relationship with Robin is not the reason of his attitude to you, for he seems to be a very rational and clever man. He really liked you and was impressed with you, Marian."

"Oh, don't exaggerate, Guy."

"I am stating the truth."

"Are you still thinking about Robin Hood?"

Marian turned her gaze at him with a silent note of accusation in her sharp gaze. "Yes. I cannot forget Robin. He could have been alive now if some things had been different."

Guy sighed. "I won't pretend that we couldn't have avoided his death. I regret his death."

"We could have saved Robin," she stated.

"We could do nothing, Marian. Hood… Robin jumped between King Richard and his own blade in the sheriff's hand, and Vaisey murdered him."

Marian speared him with a look. "You should have killed the sheriff when I asked you. Then Robin would have been alive now." She could barely bring herself to look at him; she was angry with Guy.

"You are so angry with me?" He paled, astonished at the depth of her disappointment in him.

"I am angry with you. I am angry with Isabella. I am angry with the whole world." She looked at him, tears shimmering in her eyes. "But most of all I am angry with myself."

"Marian, you are not guilty of Robin Hood's death," Guy hurried to say aloud. "King Richard is right. It was a tragic concourse of circumstances."

Marian glanced right into his eyes. "I meant something different." She reached out and touched his cheek. "I am ashamed of all my lies and confusion." She took her hand away. "I had to be honest with Robin and you, but I chose to keep silent."

"Do you still love Robin?" he asked hoarsely.

"I am very tired. I prefer to retire for the night. Goodnight," she said dismissively.

Guy sighed heavily. "Goodnight."

Without giving him a backward glance, Marian walked away and passed through the corridor, her light feet making almost no sound on the staircase that skirted a lush garden, the smell of blossoms heavy in the still air. The meeting with the king brought the memories of Robin and herself back with captivating sharpness, and she wanted to be alone in her grief. She didn't need Guy; not now.

Guy tore his gaze from the end of the corridor where Marian had just disappeared. The events of the past days crushed him like an ant beneath a boulder. He wasn't sure that Robin hadn't taken Marian with himself to the underworld. There were no more mysteries and lies between them, but they had never been as distant from each another as they were now.

Once Guy had reached the sanctuary of his room, he found no peace. He threw himself down upon the softness of his luxurious bed, closed his eyes, and prayed for sleep, a slice of oblivion. Guy covered himself with a silk blanket, pressing one of the pillows to his chest; then he shut his eyes and drew a deep, deep breath. A sharp, tearing pain deep in his heart surged through him; his chest was heavy with naked anguish and guilt. He didn't know where to run away from his pain.

His heart was overwhelmed with guilt. He had killed many people and had witnessed deaths of even more, but he had never felt as guilty of anyone's death as he was currently feeling guilty of Robin's death; hatred for the sheriff fomented in his heart with a new strength. Nothing could eradicate his guilt, and Guy finally realized that only the murder of Vaisey by his sword would be the right thing to do.

In his mind, Guy laughed almost violently. Marian's fate was linked to his own fate and Robin Hood's fate. He had hated and despised Robin; he had thought that the younger man had been nothing more than a vain showoff. He had believed that Robin had been a braggart interested only in himself and glory, as well as in the people's love and adoration. He had been sure that Hood had never been able to feel as deeply as he could. Now he saw how grievously he had misjudged Robin of Locksley.

Interestingly, Guy thought that there was a sort of similarity between Robin and himself. Robin Hood could have been Guy of Gisborne, and Guy could have been Robin if their lives and choices had been different. And yet, it wasn't true either because Robin and Guy were very different in many aspects. Guy was a dark character with flashes of humanity and light; Robin was a true hero with dark shadows. Guy was a tormented soul that must be guided to redemption. Robin also was a tormented soul in the way that he had to fight with his demons and the darkness which he was able to control very well.

Robin's spirit was more rebellious, adventurous, and foolhardy than Guy's. Robin was the savior of England, King Richard, and the people, and a fighter for justice. Guy had no ambitions to be heroic and famed for his good deeds, but he had hungry for power; he didn't need glory to be content with his life. Heroic deeds, vain nature, and exclusive life path were the hallmarks of Robin Hood's life. Robin possessed an idealistic nature, and he could have never been as practical as Guy was.

Guy was not a great man and a self-sacrificing hero like Robin Hood. He knew that Marian missed Robin's heroics and shared his altruistic believes as she herself cared for the people very much. Guy believed that she wished to have an unusual, original life path, so different from a routine family life, which made her similar to Robin. But Robin was a man of state and duty, and his conflict of loyalties to England and his love was an unresolved one; it was not clear what he could choose in the end.

Guy and Robin were so different, and yet they were so similar. They could have been friends and even brothers if there had been no fire at the Gisborne Manor and if they parents had married. But they had become mortal enemies many years ago. Then their life paths had intersected again, and they had desperately tried to kill each other. Yet, in the end Robin Hood had become the very man who had pushed Guy to break free from Vaisey and become his own man, and Guy was grateful to Robin.

There was absolute mess in Guy's head. He knew that his life had been full of lies and that Vaisey had been the reason of all the misery in his life. And there was the fact that probably Marian had never loved him as much as he wished her to love him. To his amazement, Guy felt tears welling into his eyes; he turned his face into his pillow and wept for the first time in many years.

§§§

Several days passed since King Richard had revealed to Guy the truth about his past. Since then, Guy was assailed by the guilt of his contribution to Robin's death, which made him hate Sheriff Vaisey more than he had ever hated the evil man before. Every day, Guy awoke with the depressing feeling that he had failed to stop Vaisey and save Robin's life and that he had served the very man who had disgraced his mother's name in the eyes of his true father – King Henry II of England. The increasingly annoying sensation that he had to wait longer before he could kill Vaisey was growing every day.

The waiting time until Guy's departure from Acre seemed endless. Hours were passing slowly and nothing could catch up with the march of time. Guy would have left Acre next day after the audience with King Richard, but the king's order was to depart in three days and with the certain people in company. The atmosphere i the Citadel of Acre was gloomy, and everyone was still in mourning.

Guy rarely left his bedchamber because there were really few people who welcomed his presence and were kind to him; the majority barely tolerated him and waited for his departure. Roger de Tosny and Allan were the only two men out of many men around who were friendly with Guy.

Guy and Marian were distant from one another. Guy knew that Marian was grieving the loss of Robin in solitude. Yet, he also felt that Marian deliberately avoided his company. She was polite and kind to him, but she was emotionally estranged and lived in her own world focused on Robin's death. She refused to move her things into Guy's bedchamber after the king had pardoned him; she slept in a separate bedroom like she had done when Guy had been the king's prisoner.

Guy was pleased that Roger de Tosny and Allan would accompany him on the way back to England. At least there would be someone who didn't hate him. He could already imagine the scornful glances of Little John, who clearly despised Guy and still considered him the sheriff's man. There was Much who hated Guy more than anyone in the world, excluding the sheriff. Guy anticipated his new meeting with Much with alarm, if not dread, understanding that their new confrontation was only a matter of time.

Marian kept herself in a distance from Much, Little John, Djaq, and Will, who were polite and formal but cold and unfriendly towards her. Once Marian met with Much in the corridor and greeted him, but he didn't reply and instead said that he was saddened with the king's order to travel to England on the same ship with Guy and Marian. Another day, Marian came to Djaq to ask about Carter's health, but the young Saracen doctor was not there and Marian had to spend some time with Will. Will asked Marian whether she was now happy that Guy had been pardoned, pointing out that Robin's last request had saved Guy's life, the life of the man who had taken Marian from Robin. It was enough for Marian and she decided to avoid the former outlaws.

Concerned with Carter's fate, Marian visited Carter again. Unlike other wounded soldiers, Carter wasn't brought to hospital and was kept in the luxurious chambers in the Citadel of Acre. The king's personal physician and Djaq spent hours with the Crusader, trying to save his life.

On the way to Carter's chamber, Marian stumbled into Guy, who asked her permission to accompany her; he wanted to use a chance and spent some time with her. Marian knocked at the heavy wooden door and opened it; Guy followed her.

The room was lit only by the flicker of a few candles near the entrance. They could see the table near the desk with bowls of water and fresh bandages. At first, they could hear only Carter's labored breathing – a series of rattling gasps coming from the darkness on the far side of the room. Moving towards the sound, they saw Carter who lay on a large, canopied bed, with Much holding his hand.

Much turned his gaze at Marian and Guy, and a deep frown marred his forehead. "What are you doing here, Lady Marian? What is this man doing here?"

The first thing that Guy and Marian noticed was the color of Much's attire – black. He wore a black tunic and black flat pants; his clothes were not adorned with jewelry, everything was plain and black. There was a strange black plume on Much's head, not his old scarf he had usually wrapped around his head when they had lived in Sherwood. Much was a kind and sweet man by nature, but now he looked very dangerous; his appearance in itself was enough to bring terror to everyone's heart.

"Much, we came to ask about Carter's health. We didn't know that you are here," Marian explained, struggling to keep her voice neutral and herself outwardly calm. "How is Carter?"

"Barely alive," Much replied, his eyes flying to Carter's face. "He is feverish and unconscious."

Marian shuddered in shock as she stared at Carter; Guy stood beside her, also stunned. Carter had always been a slender man, but the wound and the fever it had brought with it had drained his strength to the point where everyone could scarcely recognize the skeletal figure on the bed. Carter's face was waxen, his eyes were closed. Were it not for the horrible rasping of his breathing, he would have seemed dead.

"Carter will recover," Marian said confidently.

Much's gaze was focused on the wounded man. "The physician and Djaq are not so sure that he will pull through. The blade barely missed his lunges, and it is a sheer luck that he is alive."

Carter jerked up his head, and his eyes flung open. "Water," he rasped. It was the first time after the regicide attempt when he regained his consciousness.

Much poured out a goblet of fresh water from the bowl which he had taken from the bedside table. His left hand lifted and supported Carter's head, and he brought the goblet to the mouth of the wounded man. Carter slowly drank water, and then his head dropped on the pillow.

Carter moaned as he moved his body, his gaze focusing on Much's face. At that moment, Carter's face was paler than the white sheet he lay on. The high, noble brow was damp, the blue eyes fevered. His lips were dry and cracked, his features pinched with pain.

"The king," Carter muttered.

"The king is alive. Robin saved him," Much mumbled, his eyes filling with anguish and angst.

Carter smiled weakly. "Good." He coughed. "Robin... always saves the king."

"He did," Much said quietly.

"Where is Robin? He will not come?" Carter's voice was no more than a whisper.

"Robin… he… he…" Much stumbled with words.

Marian and Guy shared alarmed glances. Carter didn't see them and even didn't know that they were in the room; he was looking only at Much.

"Where is Robin?" Carter inquired.

"He is not with us," Much said sadly, tears in his eyes and a curse between his teeth.

Carter clutched Much's arm. "Not Robin…" He drew a deep, painful breath. "Tell me that he is… alive."

Much shook his head, venting a loud groan of despair. "The sheriff killed Robin."

"I loved… Robin. He was… my link to my brother, to Thomas. He gave me hope to live in that barn in Clun," Carter murmured, tears coming to his eyes, his eyes fever-bright as the emotional pain and the physical pain from his wound troubled him again. But then a ghost of a smile appeared on his face. "At least he is in a better world. He is at peace. He is laughing at us from the wrong side of his face."

Much squeezed Carter's hand again. "You are not going to die. You will live, Carter."

Carter laughed, bitterly and very quietly. "I don't care if I die. The king is safe, and this all I care about. I will be with Thomas and Robin in death." His eyes closed, and darkness claimed him.

"He passed out," Much stated, wiping tears from his eyes.

"It is for the better," Guy remarked.

"It is awful," Marian murmured, swallowing the lump in her throat. "There is nothing holy in the Holy Land – death and bloodshed. I cannot understand why knights find glory in these lands." She took a deep breath, her gaze turning completely blank. "Death is everywhere around us. Death is in the air." She looked as pale as Carter at that moment.

"I once told you the same, Marian. It is a damned place, and there is nothing holy here," Guy said.

"This is the only thing we have in common, Gisborne," Much replied quietly. He shut his eyes for an instant. "We hate the Holy Land." He sighed. "I have always hated this place. I stayed here only because of Robin. If not for him, I would have never returned to the Holy Land for the second time."

Marian sighed deeply. "Did Robin hate the Holy Land?"

"Of course, he did hate this place," Much retorted, his lip lengthening in a chilly smirk. "But you, Lady Marian, don't know what Robin thought of the Crusade, do you?"

Marian shivered at the sight of the cold smirk on Much's face. "No, I don't. He never spoke about his time on the Crusade. He only told me once that there is no glory on the battlefield."

"How little you knew of Robin, my lady," Much replied, with a sarcastic grin.

Marian didn't expect a new outburst of anger from Much. "Much, you will never stop despising me? Remember that we have grown up together. We were friends once."

"And how do you want me to treat you, my lady?" Much hissed. "You caused Robin so much pain. You don't deserve him!"

Marian looked shocked. "Much, please don't say that!"

Much was growing angrier and angrier. He hated and despised everyone who had ever caused Robin pain. He didn't want to live another day in the world in which Robin was dead. "Have you ever truly understood the grown-up Robin, Lady Marian?" he challenged. "My lady, you viewed him as a glory hound and a golden boy, and only then as a man who fought for his people."

"Much, you are mistaken," Marian countered.

Much tossed his head. "No, I am not wrong!" he shouted. "Robin had always guarded his emotions. But you were his fiancée, and you didn't even try to look into his soul."

Marian nodded with some reluctance. "Yes, I should have been more compassionate towards him, especially when he just returned from the Crusade."

Much shook his head in disbelief. "Congratulations! You finally see your mistakes, Lady Marian!" He laughed. "I wanted to kill you when you pointed an arrow at Robin on the day of our return to Nottingham." His eyes darkened with rage. "I wanted to shake you until you realized how normal people should greet soldiers who came back alive from the war."

Guy's eyes darted between Much and Marian. He was amazed with the new information about Marian and Robin he had just learnt. The selfish part of his ego was pleased with the revelation that she had been so cold with Robin on the day of his return, but the compassionate one was astonished with Marian's harshness. Marian was so different from the image of an ideal proper lady he had created in his dreams; he had an ambiguous attitude towards the image of the real Marian, which his brain re-shaped after all the recent events and the truth about Marian's relationship with Robin.

"I know how to behave," Marian protested, getting angry. "I was angry with Robin because he chose glory and left me. How else could I meet him after his return? With open arms and a large smile on my face, running to him?"

"My lady, don't exaggerate. Really, it doesn't suit you," Much recommended with a venomous smirk. "You could have been cold, but polite. Nobody asked you to run to Robin and profess undying love for him." He smirked. "And what did you do to Robin? You were so angry that the harshness of your actions exceeded all norms of proper behavior."

Marian raised her chin. "It is out of your business, Much!"

Guy's eyes darted between Marian and Much; he was shocked where the conversation was going.

"No, it is not," Much parried. "You almost married Gisborne after Robin had been outlawed and then he tried to show you that he still loved you. Then you gave hope to Robin and accepted his marriage proposal." He narrowed his eyes at her, his entire being radiating anger. "Finally, you betrayed Robin."

Marian stared at her childhood friend, hoping to make him more sympathetic. "Much, I wronged Robin, and I had no moral right to do that. But he also wronged me, though it doesn't matter now. I can speak only for myself." She sighed deeply. "I am ashamed of what I did to Robin. Probably, I will never forgive myself for the pain I caused him… and Guy."

"Lady Marian, Robin forgave you. He didn't hate you," Much informed.

"He told me the same." Marian looked down, tears splashing her cheeks. His forgiveness warmed and soothed; yet, feelings of bitterness and guilt didn't evaporate.

"Robin never lied," Much asserted.

"Much, Robin's death has devastated me. It is an unbearable loss." Marian felt a crushing pain building in her chest. "I would have willingly given my life for Robin, but I cannot do that."

"Lady Marian, I believe you that you are mourning the loss of Robin," Much said sincerely. "But it doesn't mean that I have to be your friend again, like it was in childhood."

Guy rolled his eyes, wishing to punch Much. Marian only sighed heavily, resigned to Much's enmity.

"The Holy Land changes your perception of death," Much said rhetorically, his expression amazingly calm and detached. "We spent so many years in the Holy Land that we got accustomed to death a long time ago. The clouds of dust, the clang of swords, the clamor of battle, and the smell of blood and death became a part of our lives. We can feel the odor of death in the air even when there is no death around; this odor is lingering."

Marian shook her head as if confused. She had never seen Much so serious before; he had always been so simple and so talkative, complaining and whining, but now she saw another side of him – Much was greatly affected by the war. "I cannot imagine how you and Robin survived here, Much."

Much's face had a strange expression – despair mingled with resignation. "You will be unable to imagine that unless you spend here at least a year. The more you are here, the less you fear death. And then you suddenly notice that you don't fear death."

"No fear at all?" Marian asked, amazed to the core.

In contrast to Marian, Guy understood that the Crusaders didn't fear to die. He considered many of them fools doing a suicide mission – trying to liberate Jerusalem at any cost. Yet, a part of him still respected the Crusaders for bravery and fearlessness. Guy couldn't say about himself that he was absolutely fearless to die, especially now when his conscience was so troubled.

"I am still afraid of death, but only a little, not as much as at the beginning of the Crusade," Much responded truthfully. "Robin didn't fear death. For him, death meant not only peace, but the glorious end of one life and the beginning of another life." He chuckled. "Here, in the Holy Land, we were all playing with death, every day and every hour." He paused for a moment. "But Robin was courting death. His war strategies were extravagant and risky, but well-thought and successful. The risks Robin took were on the verge of madness. Nobody, except for King Richard and the Earl of Leicester, could do what he did."

"Did Robin use such risky tactics in Nottingham?" Marian was genuinely interested.

"Of course, not," Much thundered. "If Robin had demonstrated in Nottingham everything he could do, many people would have died, and he didn't want that." He gave Gisborne a hard glare, then turned to Carter and spoke. "Robin invented many clever and risky plans to outwit the Saracens." He smiled proudly. "Robin was a true genius of war, though he didn't like it."

"Robin played with death because he didn't fear it," Marian concluded.

Much smiled, sadly and wistfully. "During the siege of Acre, once I asked Robin how he was able to be so fearless in battles and risk so much even for the king. He laughed at me and said that if he could have dropped dead right now, he would have been the happiest man alive."

Gisborne smiled. "Robin had a strange sense of humor."

"He did." Marian smiled vaguely.

"But there was much sense behind his dry humor," Much interjected. "Robin didn't fear death because he was sure that there was another life after death." He emitted a rather mannered sigh and went on. "He believed that in that life there were no differences between religions – there was only one God, whatever we call him – Allah or Jesus Christ." He smiled bitterly. "Robin often said that various religions are comedies played for an audience stupidly fighting for the land that belongs to everyone, while in reality the inventors of these religions only want to satisfy their hunger for power."

"Interesting and unusual views for a Crusader!" Gisborne found out that he hadn't known the grown up Robin of Locksley at all.

"It is true, though I am not sure that there is only one God," Marian opined. "All wars are fought for power and lands." Her expression turned wistful before becoming blank again. "I have never thought that Robin could be so philosophical. I saw this side of him on occasion, but it was so rare and he never explained why and how he felt about many things."

Much walked away from the bed and stopped near the table. He took Robin's unsheathed scimitar in his hands and stared at it for a long time. There was dried blood on the scimitar, Robin's blood, and Much's heart constricted in his chest at the memory of Robin's demise in Imuiz.

Guy watched Much from a distance. His eyes narrowed as he saw that the man held Robin's scimitar in his right hand. He thought that Much would probably try to kill him, like Roger de Lacy had tried to kill him the other day. Guy placed a hand on the hilt of his sword, prepared to defend himself.

"Much, what are you doing?" Marian broke a long silence. Mortal fear suddenly seized her at the thought that Much would attack Guy.

However, Guy and Marian were mistaken – Much wasn't going to kill Guy. Much loathed and hated the man with all his heart, but he respected Robin's last wish. "I am going to keep Robin's scimitar always with me," he said monotonously; he moved back to the bed, still holding the scimitar.

"Why?" Marian asked.

Much swallowed the bile in his throat; a taste of bitterness nearly choked him. "In this way, I will feel closer to Robin." He sighed grievously. "I will use Robin's Saracen recurved bow and his scimitar to fight with the Black Knights. I will kill them with Robin's weapons."

Marian nodded. "I understand."

Carter stirred and groaned in pain. His eyes opened involuntarily a split second as pain slashed through him, and then they clenched shut tightly. His heart beating wildly in his chest, Much squeezed Carter's hand, trying to give as much moral support to his dying friend as he could.

Much glared at Guy. "Gisborne, do you like what you see? You would be happy if one of us dies."

"You are wrong. I hope that Sir Carter will live," Guy replied sincerely.

"Too many people died because of the sheriff," Much muttered.

"The sheriff is a monster," Marian said between clenched teeth.

Much glared at Guy. "Gisborne, you are a monster too. You deserve a slow, painful death for all your heinous crimes."

"Maybe you are right, and I deserve to die instead of Robin Hood," Guy said unexpectedly. There was no violence in his face and his steel blue eyes – only vulnerability than evolved into blankness.

They heard the sound of footsteps in the corridor, and then the door opened.

"Nobody deserves to die. Only God can decide whose life to take and whose life to spare," a firm voice spoke. "Life and death are in God's hands."

Listening to their agitated discussion from his position at the doorway, the Knight Hospitaller thought that it was his duty to interfere. He was a middle-aged man, his face long and wide jawed, clean shaven and angular; his brown eyes were deep set beneath black brows, slightly too close together. His mouth was wide and mobile, and his teeth, thanks to his good health despite his age, were even and almost white, showing up starkly against his tanned skin.

"There are no wiser words." Marian eyed the intruder.

Much frowned. "Who are you?"

"I am Friar Tuck," the Knight Hospitaller responded. "I am taking care of Sir Carter."

"Carter is an unfortunate victim of Vaisey and Gisborne!" Much bellowed as his temper flared up. He stepped aside from the bed and let his gaze linger at Guy, scornfully, and then he turned to look at the monk. "Friar Tuck, how can you know who deserves to die and who doesn't? You are a man of God, but you still have so much blood on your hands that I don't know how you sleep in the night."

"Lord Much, you also have much blood on your conscience. You killed many Saracens and, I suppose, even guards in Nottingham when you were one of Robin Hood's men," Tuck pointed out, his tone calm.

Instead of being embarrassed, Much became angrier. "I have served in the king's private guard for years! I have fought for England and for King Richard! I served Robin, my master and my best friend! My mission has always been to protect Robin and the King! I helped people in Nottingham and saved the lives of innocents!" He raised his tone. "Your mission, Friar Tuck, is to provide care for poor, sick or injured pilgrims in the Holy Land, but you still spilled a lot of blood in these lands!"

"Stop, Lord Much!" Guy's voice rang sharp with rebuke. "Control yourself!"

"Much, shut up!" Marian shot the former manservant an irritated look, then turned to face Guy.

"Yeah, a scandal." Guy turned away, not wishing to look at the enraged former manservant.

"No scandal at all." Tuck didn't look offended. "Lord Much, I think why you say that: perhaps you only shared with us Robin of Locksley's thoughts." He smiled tightly. "I don't blame you for having such a low opinion about the Hospitallers, for there is a great truth in your words."

Angry with himself for his disrespectful behavior, Much tore his gaze from the monk. "You are right. Robin thought so." There was the furious glitter of tears in his eyes as he swung back to stare at Tuck, his arm gripping the hilt of Robin's scimitar. "I shouldn't have said that."

"Apology accepted," Tuck said softly.

Much turned his gaze at Guy. "I am sorry if I was harsh, but I will never like you, Gisborne."

"Lord Much, I am not asking you to like me," Guy snapped, irritated. "You may believe me or not, but I do truly regret Hood's… Robin's death, and I don't want Sir Carter's death."

"I can console myself only with the fact that Robin… saved our king and England," Much murmured in a shaking voice. "When he was young, he wanted to die a glorious death, for the king. And he got what he wished." He fought for control of his emotions, and once again he failed. "But we even don't have his grave to come and pray for him. I pray they will find Robin's body, and then we will bury him."

"Life and death are God's gifts. Nothing happens without a reason," Tuck said meaningfully. "I have spent many years in the Holy Land. I have seen many deaths here." He raised his voice. "But once there was the Knight Templar who was expected to die by everyone, but he fought fiercely for his life. He earned himself an undying reputation for futile bravery by refusing to let surgeons amputate his wounded arm when it was deemed to be gangrenous. The wound, it transpired, was merely infected, not gangrenous, and in time the knight regained almost full use of the limb."

"What do you mean?" Marian asked, glancing questioningly at him.

Tuck looked very sly. "That Knight Templar was a warrior of God, and he survived and won the battle with death." Having delivered his astonishing words, he watched them expectantly. "Sir Robin's body hasn't been found yet. Who knows why?"

"Good God!" Guy exclaimed in tones of angry exasperation. "What do you want to say?"

"Oh, not this!" Marian frowned in annoyance; she didn't want to feed illusions in all of them.

"Nothing more than I have already said," Tuck replied.

"Robin died as soon as he removed his scimitar out of his body. He was mortally wounded and had no chance to survive," Djaq declared as she appeared at the doorway to the bedchamber.

Guy was stunned that Djaq, the Saracen woman, wore mourning colors like all the Crusaders.

Tuck shot her a sly look. "You seem to know everything, Mistress Djaq." He spoke to her in a formal, a little sarcastic manner, for they didn't like each other at all.

"And you seem to talk of the things you didn't see, Friar Tuck," Djaq parried. "You didn't see how Robin was wounded, and you cannot doubt my word." She sighed. "Marian, Much, and… Gisborne, please leave now. I am going to tend to Carter's wound."

Much nodded at Djaq and bowed slightly to Marian, a mocking bow, like Robin did to Guy when he had seen him in Locksley on the day of his arrival; then Much left without saying any other word. Guy tugged at Marian's sleeve, motioning her to move, and they strode towards the door. In the corridor, Marian said farewell words to Guy and left to spend the evening in the seclusion of her chamber.

§§§

Marian ran through the corridors as fast as her legs carried her. As soon as she got to her bedroom and slammed the door behind her, she threw herself on the bed. Unable to keep her feelings under control anymore, she sobbed her grief into a pillow until her throat turned dry and she didn't lose her voice.

An agonizing pain gripped her heart, squeezing it so tightly that she couldn't breathe. It hurt her so much that Robin had left her and that she would never see his charming smile again. It hurt her that she would never tease him and advise him to grow up, and he would laugh at her in response, his entrancing, contagious laughter lifting her from the ground in the air and letting her fly through life like a light breeze, overcoming all their problems and hardships in such a Robin-like manner.

She was also guilty of lying to Guy about her real relationship with Robin, and that guilt suffocated her as much as her guilt of hurting Robin. Her heart was so full of pain and anguish that she couldn't bring herself to make a step to Guy and help him deal with his own pain. She knew that her estrangement was causing him pain, but she was selfish and had no strength to help him when she herself was broken. Her entire heart was aflame with her own pain.

She had once been emotionally distant from Robin – after his return from Acre, punishing him for leaving her and for choosing war over his love for her. Now her emotional distance from Guy was as great as the distance between Nottingham and Acre. The thought of being alone seemed sweetly attractive for her tired and bleeding heart.

Marian wanted Robin to be alive. She wanted him to come and flash his cheeky smile for her. She wished Robin to laugh with her and whirl with her in a life full of thrilling adventures. It sounded like a steel-hearted mockery that she wanted Robin to be alive with all her heart but now it was impossible. Now she needed Robin more than she had ever needed him before, but she couldn't have him.

Tears brimming in her eyes, Marian rose to her feet. She wasn't going to leave her bedchamber today. She needed loneliness and privacy for her repentance and lonely atonement. She only knew that Robin was dead. She lost herself in the cobweb of pain, anguish, hatred, and love. She was lost. She was hurting. She was alone, and she liked her loneliness.

Marian was pulled out of her thoughts by a loud knock at the door. She didn't want to see anyone, especially Guy. "Please, come in," she permitted.

The door opened, and Allan appeared at the doorway. He entered the room and stopped near the door, his eyes surveying his surroundings and finally stopping on Marian. He gasped for air as he saw her: she lost much weight since the day of regicide in Imuiz, her paleness was extreme, and she looked like a ghost of a ghost in her black-and-gray gown. Yet, she was still beautiful, and nobody could deny that.

Allan's heart was heavy since their arrival in Acre. The king was safe, but Robin was dead, and Allan cursed himself that he hadn't taken Marian's offer to kill the sheriff in Nottingham; at that time, he had been ready to laugh at her madness, but now he felt shame. Marian had been right that the sheriff must have been stopped in England: he himself must have murdered the man.

"How are you doing, Marian? Do you need something?" Allan asked politely.

Marian looked at Allan and her throat constricted. Allan's words were quite a blow to her memories that her old friends were either indifferent or openly hostile towards her. Allan's words also warmed her heart, for at least there were still some people who cared for her.

"I am fine, Allan. I will survive." Her voice sounded unconvincing even for herself.

"You look ill," Allan said directly. "Do you sleep well?

She glared at him, annoyed with him for asking such intrusive questions; but her expression quickly softened at the sight of his concerned face. "Of course, I don't," she answered sincerely.

Allan eyed her with careful scrutiny. "You don't sleep because you are haunted by nightmares or are thinking of Robin's death." He drew a deep breath. "Am I right?"

"Yes." Her voice was barely a whisper, but he heard it.

Allan came to Marian and knelt down to her. "Marian," he began in a caressing voice, "like Robin, you have clear and rather rigid ideas about justice, about what is right and what is wrong." He took her hand in his. "When you do something wrong, you blame only yourself. But the longer you sit here brooding, the more your grief settles inside your heart, like a plague that is slowly killing you."

"I did many wrong things," Marian said, looking into his eyes.

"But it doesn't mean that you should kill yourself for that."

She glanced away. "I am not killing myself."

Allan turned her chin to him. "Marian, you are killing yourself by constant brooding and thinking of what would never happen now." He managed a smile. "Like Robin, you take things more to heart than anyone realizes, and you try to cover your grief with a mask of coldness and hardness."

"I will always remember Robin," Marian whispered.

"And so will I," he added.

"Everything that happened seems to be a fairy-tale or a ballad about Robin Hood." She smiled sadly. "But life is reality. Life can be dark and cruel, and many people can have two faces. The façade is often a myth, and if masks are stripped, we can see something entirely new."

"It is very true."

She laughed tragically. "And in my case, you will see that I am dead inside."

Allan wasn't astounded that Marian was philosophical and contemplative at the moment; it often happened to him in the most difficult moments of his life. "I hope that time will heal your wounds."

Marian returned her gaze to the window. "I doubt that."

"Please take care of yourself," Allan said as he rose to his feet.

"I will try," Marian said, not really meaning it.

Allan only nodded wordlessly. He walked to the door and opened it, then stopped, casting a sidelong glance at Marian and then left. Unexpectedly, he stumbled into Djaq in the corridor.

"Djaq, can you please check on Marian?" Allan asked anxiously. "I am worried about her."

"Of course, I will," Djaq promised.

"She is suffering," Allan said shortly. "She needs our help."

"I will visit her now," Djaq promised.

Allan smiled. "Thank you."

Djaq nodded, then walked away, heading to Marian's room. She knocked at the door and heard the permission to come in. She smiled kindly at the sight of stubborn and fireless Marian who turned red, then pale, and began to tremble like a culprit before her. Though Djaq smiled at Marian, there was only sadness, for she could easily imagine how much Marian was suffering.

"Allan says that you are feeling unwell. What happened, Marian?" Djaq began.

"Nothing," Marian returned with a wince as she hung her head.

"Please, don't tell me that you have a sore throat, for it would be a simple lie," Djaq said, growing visibly frustrated with Marian's apparent lack of concern with her own fate.

Marian nodded. "Well, you see, I am a liar. But I am not going to lie more – I deceived enough people, myself in the first place." She still didn't look at Djaq. "My sickness cannot be cured."

Djaq caught Marian's eye. "Well, soon you will be unable to stand if you don't sleep and eat."

Marian took a deep breath, and looked at Djaq. "Can a broken heart ever heal?"

"It depends on how much it is damaged," Djaq began philosophically. "At the moments of death, when a human being is passing to Heaven or to hell, he bequeaths what he feels in perpetuity to all other men, women, mothers, widows, or maidens, who should wish to pray for others or for themselves." Her voice took a higher octave. "And Robin left a great legacy after his death, for he was a unique man, and his love for you is a part of that legacy."

Marian swallowed her nervousness. "His love for me?"

"Exactly," Djaq confirmed. "He loved you even after you had married Gisborne."

She smoothed her hands over the front of her skirt. "But I betrayed Robin. I broke his heart."

"I cannot judge you, but I still think that you did a wrong thing when you married Gisborne before breaking your betrothal to Robin," Djaq said in a firm voice. "And yet, I can understand you."

Marian stared at Djaq incredulously. "You can understand me?"

"Yes," Djaq replied, smiling. Not a moment later, the corner of her mouth turned up in a wry grin. "Robin was a great man, and there are few people who can do what he achieved in his short life, but he was England's man through and through. He was a difficult man for a marriage." She chuckled. "I am not sure that I want to have a husband who saves everyone in the world and whom I have to share with England, the king, his friends, and everyone else who needs his help."

Shocked, Marian trembled. "Do you really think so?"

"Yes, I do."

"And you don't loathe me, do you?" Marian said cautiously, her eyes full of hope.

Djaq's expression softened. "I have no reasons to loathe you, Marian. I have always respected you, for you are a brave and interesting woman. Actually, you are much more interesting than I thought at the beginning." She smiled kindly. "Everyone has a right to make mistakes. Everyone can be confused."

Marian swallowed hard, and struggled to contain her composure. "Robin is dead. I cannot forget that. There is no way to correct the mistakes of the past, and I hurt him deeply."

"You hurt him very much," Djaq agreed. "But didn't he ever hurt you enough?"

"Robin broke my heart when he chose to fight in the Holy Land," Marian admitted. Her heart sank as she remembered the five years of constant prayers and mortal dread that he would be killed. "But he didn't betray me. He fought for England and for King Richard because he was a man of duty and honor, and he just couldn't do otherwise, though he also wanted glory."

It was rather amusing to see Djaq at loss. "Marian, I think you that Robin fought in the Holy Land not only for England, for his king, and for glory." She shook her head. "You still don't understand him, but I don't blame you – _Robin had many faces and always covered his real face with a mask_."

"It was always difficult to understand Robin, but he became more reserved after his return from the Crusade." Marian spared a grateful glance at the Saracen woman. "Robin was rarely frank with me and never completely frank. Pulling the truth out of him, including love confessions, was a difficult thing."

"I know," Djaq said, her voice gentler than Marian had ever heard it. "I talked to Robin about the Holy Land because I thought that he would open up to me because I am a Saracen who suffered from the actions of the Crusaders." She sighed. "Yet, I failed – he refused to talk about the war even with me."

"It seems that he talked to nobody," Marian muttered under her breath.

"He talked to King Richard and the Earl of Leicester."

"Naturally. He was very close to them."

"Robin also talked to Much from time to time," Djaq informed. "Much and Robin became closer after our arrival in Acre. Robin treated Much like an equal and was very considerate towards his friend." She let out a tiny smile. "Much loved Robin even more than he had ever loved him before. They talked even about the Holy Land in the past months before… Robin's death."

"I am glad."

Djaq sighed, thinking whether she needed to say some things, but then decided that she had to do that. "Much told me that Robin's wife, Lady Melisende, quickly became Robin's confident. Robin opened his heart to her as much as he had never opened it to any other woman."

Marian raised her eyebrows. "Really?"

"Much said that."

"I see." Marian turned toward the window, her expression wrought with pain.

"Marian, you must take care of yourself," Djaq announced emphatically. "You can weep and curse in grief, but you must eat and sleep." She extracted a small box with pills from the pocket of her tunic; then she approached Marian. "Take it and use it every evening. You will sleep better."

The other woman took the box in her hands. "Without nightmares?"

"It depends on a dose. If you want a peaceful sleep, more oblivion than a sleep, then you should take two pills, but in this case you won't awake for many hours."

"I need just a calmer sleep."

"Then take one pill. You will sleep better anyway."

"Thank you," Marian said with gratitude.

"Welcome, Marian," Djaq returned with a smile. "Remember that Robin didn't wish you to suffer. And he would never desire you to be alive but dead inside, living in a great grief for your penance."

Marian smiled sadly. "Thank you, Djaq."

As the door closed and Djaq went out of the room, Marian sighed with relief. She was finally left alone with thoughts and memories of Robin and their love story. She wanted to be alone. She needed nobody and nothing at that time. What she wanted to have she couldn't have because Robin was dead.

As Djaq was gone, Marian started undressing herself, intending to spend the rest of day in the bed, dreaming to forget about the terrible reality she couldn't accept. As she threw her last undergarment on the bed, she stood silent for some time, running her eyes over the room.

The chamber was as luxurious, like all other chambers in the guest quarters of the Citadel of Acre. Heavy walnut furniture stood upon a large Turkish orange and black carpet, and a large walnut bed with orange and gold drapes stood in the corner of the chamber. There were also several chairs scattered around the room, each of them covered with orange brocade. Orange, black, and gold tones rioted across the room interior in a bold design.

Near the undraped window that faced the seashore, there was a high-back armchair; the wood was painted with golden lions on a black ground. The seat was draped with black brocade ornamented with jewelry. Beside an armchair, there was a table covered with a cloth with a pattern of birds. The armchair was so magnificent that Marian wondered who used it before, thinking that it might have been the bedchamber that was once occupied by someone of a very high station.

Marian put on her blue brocade robe. Tears came to her eyes, and she blinked them away. "I suppose I can endure this grief. I will survive," she thought.

She went to the great armchair and seated there. She smiled at the pattern of birds on the cloth that covered the table – birds always reminded her of Robin. She was thinking of Robin and herself, remembering the day of her last meeting with Robin before his departure to the Holy Land, the happy moments of his two marriage proposals to her, their last conversation in Nottingham after her marriage to Guy, and the day of his tragic death in Imuiz. The memories were painful and sweet, and an explosion of pain consumed her, body and soul.

"Robin, we parted our ways on bad terms, and I broke our betrothal. I threw my engagement ring into your face, though I knew that I wronged you, and I wronged myself as well," she thought. Fresh tears stung her eyes, and she brushed them away with the back of her palm.

Robin had never written to Marian during the long years of his absence in Nottingham, probably feeling that it was useless after their farewell. She had craved to have at least some news about Robin, hoping that the young fool hadn't been slaughtered by the Saracens yet. From time to time, she had heard rumors that Robin had become one of the king's chief generals on the Crusade and had achieved glory on the battlefield. Yet, there had been no accurate information about Robin's fate – only rumors.

Once, Marian had learnt that the son of a local lord from Nottinghamshire had just returned from the Holy Land after he had been severely injured in a battle. The young man had attended the Council of Nobles, and after the meeting had been over, he had begun to talk about King Richard's glorious Crusade. He had told the nobles many stories about the siege of Acre.

The young lord had admired King Richard's war strategies and military talent, bravery and leadership. He had also spoken a lot about numerous fierce and bloody battles with the Saracens, complaining that the king's men could have been attacked five or six times in a single day and that there had been times when they had fought on a not-stop basis for several days in a row. The young man had also lamented that the king's troops had starved at the beginning of the long siege of Acre.

When Marian had almost lost all hope to hear something about Robin, the ex-Crusader had started bragging that he had served under Sir Robin of Locksley's command for nearly two years. He had told many stories about Robin and his heroic deeds in the Holy Land. Marian had learnt that Robin had been appointed captain of King Richard's private guard in the end of the first year of the Crusade. The same man had reported that Robin had become the legend of the Holy Land and had earned the reputation of the brave Captain Locksley, and that Robin's name had been spoken in those distant and mysterious lands with adoration, fascination, envy, respect, and fear.

The man's war stories had sounded like something from the different world in Marian's perception, but she had listened, eagerly and greedily, to every word the man had spoken about his commander. She had only smiled, thanking God that her former betrothed had been alive after four years of the bloody war in Palestine. The truth about Robin's successful military career had burst through her with unrelenting anguish: he had deserted her for glory and had achieved it while she had led a lonely and miserable life under the brutal authority of Sheriff Vaisey.

Marian choked down the tears welling in her throat. "Robin, I was so jealous to your success in the Holy Land that I hated you even more. Here, in the Holy Land, you blossomed in fame, love, and adoration, while I was alone, unmarried and miserable, and I was waiting for you."

Soon the sensational news had arrived from the Holy Land that the Crusaders had finally conquered Acre. Many soldiers died in the final battle for the capture of the city, and Marian had waited in dread for any news, fearing that Robin could have been killed. Instead, she had heard that Robin of Locksley and his close friends had been named Heroes of Acre. It had been proclaimed that King Richard had managed to capture Acre mostly thanks to Robin of Locksley and Robert de Beaumont, his best friend.

Marian looked into the window, her eyes taking in the yellow sandy coastline. "Robin, I was proud of you when I heard that you distinguished yourself so much in the siege and capture of Acre and that you did incredible things for the king," she thought, blinking back tears. "But I would have never told you about that." Her heart slammed painfully in her chest. "And I was so happy that you were alive."

After she had heard about the capture of Acre, Marian had resigned herself to the fact that Robin wouldn't come back home for a long time, always staying at his king's side and protecting his liege. She had also become angrier, but any thought of Robin's death had caused her monstrous pain. She prayed for his survival every evening while pretending during the daytime that she no longer cared about her former betrothed.

"I loved and hated you, Robin, but I loved you more," Marian said aloud.

Robin had returned to Nottingham on a warm spring day, together with Much. He had unexpectedly appeared near the front steps of Knighton Hall. Marian had been shocked that he had looked very thin and clearly exhausted, but also too handsome and too young for a legendary Crusader hero. For a brief moment, when Robin had let his guard down, she had seen the gamut of emotions playing across his face – anguish, disbelief, amazement, bewilderment, relief, joy, merriment, and wistfulness. He had looked at Marian in adoration and fascination, but he had also been arrogant, smug, and so full of himself, thinking that they could have renewed their romance straight away.

His cockiness and arrogance had boiled her blood, and fury had clouded her judgment. Hot anger roiling out of her, Marian had grabbed her bow, determined to show Robin his place. She had run to the front steps, where Sir Edward of Knighton had stood talking to Robin. Then she had ordered Robin to go away in harsh tones, so harsh that she hadn't expected such harshness even from herself. She had even threatened to shoot Robin if he hadn't left Knighton! As she had slammed the door, Marian had heard Robin's husky voice saying something about her unmarried status. She had realized that Robin had been relieved she had been still available for courtship.

Many extraordinary things had happened to Robin and Marian. Robin had openly defied Vaisey after the sadistic man had tried to execute four innocents, and then he had been outlawed and barely escaped from Nottingham to Sherwood. In the woods, Robin had quickly started his own gang of outlaws, doing everything to undermine the sheriff's authority in the most undaunted and foolhardy ways.

Marian had been angry that Robin had forsaken the life of a wealthy nobleman, but she had also been proud of Robin because he had been the only man in England, who had found enough strength and courage to fight against tyranny and deal with the vile Sheriff of Nottingham. She had been cold towards Robin, but she had secretly envied his freedom in the forest, calling him a fool and never truly meaning it. She had feared that he would be captured and would end up on the gallows.

The August sun was sinking down the walls of Acre. Marian looked outside the window, into the gardens, letting her gaze travel further and embrace the sloping shore, yards of the desert sand, and the blue canvas of the sea. She watched the sun sinking down the water across the sky until it almost disappeared behind the horizon. With tears shimmering in her sapphire blue eyes, Marian looked like a Goodness of sadness, her features expressive and her tears luminous even in the bleak light.

Marian sighed, thinking about the Saracen attack when Robin had heroically saved King Richard's life and had been almost fatally wounded. The Saracen attack had been the secret assassination attempt of the Black Knights on King Richard's life, and Guy had almost killed Robin then. Marian hadn't believed Robin's accusations, thinking that he had been jealous. But Robin had told her only the truth, and now Marian felt ashamed that she had doubted Robin's word. Robin had always been bluntly honest with her, even if his honesty hurt her, and she couldn't say the same about herself.

Much had once informed Marian that Robin had barely survived his injury. Much had said that dying and feverish Robin had been calling for her, begging her to come and guide him to Heaven. She had been shocked beyond belief, and she had also been pleased that Robin had remembered her in the moments when he had been so close to death. She had been with Robin when he had been dying in Imuiz, but she doubted that he had been thinking only about her.

Tears trickled down her cheeks. "Then our relations improved. We worked together against Vaisey and Guy for England and the poor," she thought. "Guy coerced me into our first engagement, but I ran away from the altar and joined Robin on his horse." She smiled. "And then we rode to Nottingham to save my father from the sheriff. And since that moment, my heart began to melt for Robin."

Marian thought about many events – about her first wedding ceremony to Guy, the disclosure of the sheriff's treacherous plots against King Richard, her father's death, Robin's second proposal to her over a fresh grave, the fateful siege of Nottingham, and finally her marriage to Guy, as well as the betrayal of Robin and their love, and finally about Robin's tragic death.

She stared into the window. The sun had already sunk, and the darkness descended upon the port of Acre. On the seashore, there was nobody lurking in the darkness. A great grief was etched into all her features, her eye became humid; her mouth contracted, and a moment later, she was again sobbing.

Marian took several deep breaths. She felt wretched. She had broken Robin's heart, had shattered their dreams to be together, and had ruined her own hopes to live in harmony with herself. But she had also broken her own heart, and then Robin's death had broken her. Her life resembled a frightful nightmare, but she wasn't dreaming because her eyes were widely open and her brain was working.

Marian scrambled to her feet and walked to the bed. She sat on the edge, and her body shook in sobs again. She sobbed for an indefinite time and couldn't stop, as if an invisible hand had lifted the weight that had repressed her tears in her heart for so long. She noticed that it became completely dark in the room, like it was dark in her chamber. Evening came, and she thought welcomed it as darkness afforded her only some by letting her hide her fears and grief at least for some time.

"Why is God so cruel, Robin? Do you know the answer now when you are in Heaven?" Marian choked out, and tears leaked from her eyes. "Robin, you are gone, and I am alive. You left me alone so many times! Why are you always leaving me? Why are you leaving me even if we cannot be together?"

Robin was gone – he had been buried under the tons of the desert sand, and there was even no grave where she could go and pray for his soul, as well as for her own forgiveness. The darkness around her was swirling faster and faster, until she felt smothered by pain, guilt, and sorrow. And there was nothing and nobody who could alleviate her pain – only Robin's resurrection could have done that.

Although she took one some sleeping draught, Marian didn't sleep well on that night. She was plagued dreaming of Robin's death; she awoke with a loud scream, and wept in an ominous silence. Yet, she knew that if she continued weeping, her grief will never end – it will last forever. A lamenting and monotonous voice of her heart told her that Robin's death meant the darkness for England, King Richard, his friends, Guy, and herself as well. Without Robin, the light was gone from anyone's life.

§§§

On the same evening, Allan decided that he had to finally spend at least some time with Will and Djaq. He had already guessed that Will and Djaq were in love when they had been in Nottingham, and it was the reason why he had stepped aside and let his friends become sweethearts. He liked Djaq, but he knew that if he tried to woo her, he would fail.

The sky was dark, illuminated only by a dim orange haze like sunset. Allan knocked at the heavy wooden door of Djaq and Will's bedchamber, which they shared in the Citadel of Acre in contrast to the time when they had lived at Bassam's House and had been obliged to occupy separate rooms. He entered the cozy wood-paneled room with a high vaulted ceiling, a large window and heavy ornately carved furniture covered in rich dark blue satin.

Together with Will and Djaq, Allan had a dinner in their chamber. He was eating with all the appetite of a man who knew the value of keeping his bodily needs well satisfied. When the last piece of delicate meat had been finished and the last goblet of red wine had been drunk, Allan uttered a sigh of satisfaction, a wry smile hovering over his lips. He liked the French food that was cooked in the Citadel of Acre because King Richard preferred everything French and Aquitanian over English.

"Allan, we are glad that you came to Acre," Djaq said with a small smile.

Allan eyed Will and Djaq. They wore black. He himself wore black, like everyone else in the Citadel of Acre, excluding Lady Melisende Plantagenet who preferred to wear violet colors because Robin once told her that it was her color and that he wished to see her more often in violet or purple gowns.

Allan smiled back. "Mates, you will probably not believe me, but I wanted to do a selfless and honest act of a man loyal to England, not to himself."

Will nodded. "We believe you, Allan."

Djaq gave him a sympathetic glance. "I knew that you are a good man, Allan."

"I also owed all of you," Allan admitted. "I betrayed Robin and the gang. And what I did was not a good thing, although I still think that I had my own reasons."

"Allan, I think you betrayed not only all of us, but yourself in the first place. I was angry with you not because of the betrayal, but because you came to Gisborne and sided with the sheriff instead of trying to win Robin's loyalty back," Djaq opined, feeling sorry for the man who had just lost his way due to his own insecurities and greed.

Allan shook his head. "There was no way I could prove my loyalty to Robin. He banished me from the camp. He wanted to kill me, and I would have been already dead if Marian hadn't persuaded Robin to spare my life."

Will shrugged. "You betrayed us, and I understand Robin's anger. He feared that you would betray Marian's identity as the Nightwatchman." He sighed. "I was only wondering how you could side with the sheriff after he had killed your own brother." His usually calm face contorted in anger. "The sheriff killed my father, and it was enough for me to start hating the man with all my heart."

"May I call you my friends?" Allan asked cautiously.

"You can," Will replied with a smile. "Speak, Allan."

"I have nothing to say in my defense, only that I was tortured by Gisborne," Allan said sincerely. "I also wanted to earn money and be safe, but I never meant to do any harm to Robin and all of you."

"You have to forgive yourself," Djaq advised.

"Robin told me the same before he… died." Allan still couldn't say that his former leader was dead. "But it is difficult to do that, mates."

"Robin forgave you, we all forgave you, and now you should make peace with yourself," Djaq said.

"I am trying," Allan replied, biting his bottom lip. "I am gonna say something else. I wanted to switch sides to respect myself and to do the right thing. I wanted your forgiveness." His blue eyes glistened in the semidarkness. "But I also wanted Robin's recognition."

Will arched a brow. "Robin's what?"

Djaq smiled knowingly. "I have always seen that, Allan."

"I wanted and needed Robin's recognition," Allan reiterated. "Robin was always in the sun, and I was in the shadow. Everyone is in a shadow if they are close to him. But I wanted something different."

Will looked perplexed. "I never imagined that."

"You see, mate, I cannot tell even you some things because I was ashamed of my feelings," Allan continued, a smile splashing over his handsome features. "I was thinking that Robin would want me to come to the Holy Land and officially switch sides." His smile waned. "I didn't save the king as heroically as Robin did, but at least I helped to kill the mercenaries hired by Vaisey in that town… where Robin died." His voice was shaking at the last words. "Now I don't need this recognition, but I feel guilty."

"You shouldn't," Djaq said sincerely. "It is not your fault."

"I know, but I could have done more." Allan twisted his fingers.

"It is Vaisey's fault. He killed Robin." Will's voice tightened with anger. "I have never hated anyone as much as I hate the sheriff."

"Look, lads, this is the reason why I feel guilty of contributing to Robin's death." Allan's expression was troubled. "I could have killed Vaisey in Nottingham. His death would have been on my conscience, but it would have been better than letting him live and kill innocents, all the more our friends."

Will folded his arms over his chest, his breathing labored; any though of Vaisey made him wish to vomit. "The king will take care of the sheriff. He took an oath of revenge, I have heard."

"Yes, he did," Djaq confirmed. "He is in deep mourning for Robin."

"I can imagine," Allan replied, his voice tense.

"Everyone is allowed to grieve, even Kings," Will said. "We will never forget Robin."

Allan eyed his friends. "Will and Djaq, what are you going to do now?"

"We are staying in the Holy Land. We will live with my Uncle Bassam," Djaq announced. She let herself dream of the happy time she would have with Will at her Uncle's house, but her mind refused to create the pictures of happiness. For whatever reason, she didn't feel that she was at home in the Holy Land.

Will let out a cautious smile. "My beloved, my home is where you are." He didn't wish to stay in Acre; he disliked the yellow sand at first glance, and Robin's death made him almost hate the land of Christ. But he wanted to be with Djaq, so he decided to stay in Acre.

Watching Will and Djaq's interaction in Acre, Allan was a little envious of their love, for once he also fancied Djaq. He thought that his friends had grown even closer since their departure from England. He was glad that Will and Djaq were content with their choices. Moreover, he had another girl to woo – Kate from Locksley, whom he liked very much, and now, when the king pardoned and rewarded him for his services, he would have many chances to enjoy female company.

Now Allan was going to visit Guy, who was most likely alone in his bedchamber. He knocked at the door of Guy's bedchamber; he came to Guy to raise the spirits of the man whom everyone had considered a monster. He despised the way Much had treated Guy and had once even accused Much of crossing the line. Like Marian, Allan saw goodness in Guy; he was glad that Guy had switched sides.

Allan stepped into the room. "Guy, you are living like a king. I like this room."

Guy rose to his feet from his armchair. "I cannot complain. How are you doing, Allan?"

"I had an audience with the king in the afternoon," Allan informed.

"Take a seat there," Guy said, pointing at an armchair near the hearth. "If you want, you can have something from my dinner."

Guy didn't attend the official dinners at the great hall, though King Richard gave him his permission to go there. Richard's generals and some other people, like Henry de Champagne and his wife, always dined in the great hall, and if Guy had gone there, he would have risked enduring whisperings and cold glares of the king's men; he ordered food into his bedroom, like tonight.

Guy ate very little during these days. His appetite plummeted together with his spirits since the day of regicide in Imuiz. On the table in the corner, lay a partially eaten feast: a roasted pheasant, various cheeses and three bottles of wine. Guy rejoiced that he had good French wine which had been delivered to Acre at the order of King Richard and Henry de Champagne. When the pain in his heart was especially intensive, he drank much wine to forget the reality.

"No, thank you. I had just finished my dinner with Will and Djaq," Allan answered as he settled into the armchair. "When I lived in Sherwood, Will and Djaq were my friends." He emitted a heavy sigh. "But after… I had betrayed Robin, I lost their friendship. I am happy that now we are friends again."

"Congratulations." Guy sank into the armchair, looking at the flames of the torches. "You said that you had been with King Richard. How is the king?"

Allan crossed his arms over his chest. "The king is feeling better, but his wound is still disturbing him and it is painful for him to move his arm and shoulder." He shrugged. "And, of course, the king is not happy at all. He is devastated… after Robin's death."

"It must be very difficult for the king to get over the loss of Robin Hood." Now when he knew the truth, Guy knew better than anyone else how difficult it was for King Richard.

"I befriended Roger de Lacy on the long way to Acre; he is a good man. Roger told me many stories about his childhood and early youth he spent at Prince Richard's court in Poitiers," Allan confided in his former master. "Robin of Locksley, Robert de Beaumont, Roger of Stoke, Roger de Lacy, Legrand de Walcott, and some other knights befriended each other at Prince Richard's court." He sighed. "Roger said that King Richard took them under his care like small birds, paid attention to them, educated and trained them, and they finally grew up into his large birds." He smiled. "Roger's comparison to birds is more applicable to Robin as his name means a bird, but the sense doesn't change."

"And?" The reminder of Roger of Stoke was another blow to Guy.

"If the mighty King of England chose them so many years ago and… erm… guided them, then it means that the man really cares for them. He won't forget… their deaths very quickly."

The man in black leather cocked a brow. "Especially in Robin's case."

"Certainly, Guy. Sir Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, said that Robin's death created a large hole in everyone's heart, especially in the king's heart and his own heart."

"I don't know the Earl of Leicester very well, and I have no desire to know him."

"Look, mate, I understand you why you don't want to see all these people. They are the king's men, and it is clear that they are not gonna like you anytime soon."

"I don't care what they think about me."

"Guy, listen… I know that things were tough between us, but I am at your side."

"When you served me, I grew very fond of you, Allan. I can understand that you didn't want to kill the king, but I trusted you," Guy chided almost gently. "And you betrayed my trust."

Allan swallowed hard at the bitterness that filled him with the recollection of the events when he was torn between his friendly affection for Guy, his deep affection for Robin Hood, and his guilty conscience. "At first, I was honored to be in the inner sanctum, but very soon many things changed. The mission to kill the Queen Mother's golden boy chilled me to the bone, even more than attempt on King Richard's life." He paused to collect his thoughts. "I was appalled that the prince wished to kill the queen's son out of personal revenge on his own mother. Revenge on his own mother is worse than desire to kill the king out of his ambitions for the throne. I couldn't stay aside and do nothing."

Guy's expression was tenebrous. "I understand."

"I wonder who Queen Eleanor's bastard son is."

Guy swallowed convulsively. "I don't know. I don't think the prince will ever find him. All the traces must have been covered up." The king said that all the spies who had heard the secret and all the other witnesses were dead, and the deaths of Bridget and Thornton proved that the lion didn't lie.

Allan shook his head in agreement. "We will never learn the truth."

"What are you going to do now, Allan?"

"I pledged my loyalty to King Richard."

"The king's man now, eh?" Guy laughed at the irony.

"I am not a soldier, but I will be loyal to the king," Allan said. "I will repay my debt to Robin."

Guy arched a brow. "Which debt? For betrayal?"

"I owe Robin," Allan stated. "I was rescued by Robin after being caught poaching on the first day of Robin's arrival in Nottingham. Robin also saved my life from hanging. He didn't save Tom, but there is no way he could know that Tom's execution was rescheduled." He lowered his eyes in shame. "And how did I pay Robin back? I betrayed him by siding with the sheriff. And yet, Robin still gave me a chance to come back, although he had already left England."

Gisborne narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "You worked for Hood while he was in the Holy Land?"

"Robin sent me a message through one of the king's men," Allan confessed. "I agreed to warn Robin about the next regicide attempt when you go to the Holy Land; Robin demanded nothing else."

"And what did Robin promise you in return?"

"The king's pardon and reward," Allan said.

Guy looked disgusted. "You are greedy, selfish, and hypocritical, as always."

Allan sighed, his heart sinking. "Wait, Guy. I am gonna tell you my story." His gaze turned sad. "Tom and I were born in Rochdale in Lancashire. My father was an impoverished local baron – Sir George of Heywood, Baron of Rochdale. My father gambled all our money and was a hopeless drunkard. In alcoholic daze, he killed my mother and was arrested; later he killed himself in the dungeon to avoid shame of public execution." His expression was pained. "Our family was disgraced. Our small manor was confiscated. At that time, I was only ten years old; Tom was two years older than me."

Guy looked at him incredulously. "I have never thought that you are a dispossessed nobleman."

Allan chuckled. "You see, you and I have much in common."

"Indeed."

"After we had lost everything, I became an expert pickpocket," Allan continued his tale. "I was very poor, and I saw nothing wrong in robbing, cheating, plotting, and lying. I lived only for myself and was unable to imagine what it is to do something honorable and good for the people, just humble souls, innocent and helpless." He trailed off; a feeling of guilt slashed though his heart. "I lived in the same way until I met Robin and you, Guy."

"And what did we do for you?"

Allan laughed lightly; it was his first easy laugh since the day of Robin's death. "Yeah, Guy," he said, winking at Guy. "Robin and you changed my life and changed me." He laughed again. "I have never told you, Guy, but I have… a musical talent: I play lute and sing songs, at times compose songs."

Guy was utterly amazed. "You possess many talents, and not all of them are bad."

"Many bards sing songs about Robin Hood and his merry men, but they don't know how Robin and the gang fought for justice," Allan continued with a smile. "I was a part of Robin's fight, and someday I am gonna write a song about Robin Hood and his outlaws and our fight against the sheriff." He gave Guy a wry smile. "Maybe one day I will compose a song or a ballad about your reconciliation with Robin."

"Robin Hood can become immortal through your songs," Guy said in almost cheerful tones.

Allan shook his head. "Robin Hood has already become immortal," he said emphatically. "Robin Hood is the legend and the spirit of England. Memory about him will live long after we all are gone."

Guy's eyes flashed, and he smiled. "Robin's fight for justice made him immortal."

"I will make Robin Hood _the greatest legend of all times_, and the memory about him will be _eternal_," Allan pledged. "I will compose and sing many songs about Robin Hood and his merry men, including about myself." He paused, giving a satisfied smile at the thought that he would also become immortal through his own songs. "Robin Hood will be reborn in imagination of many generations many times over, and the legend will never die."

Guy poured out two goblets of wine, and gave one to Allan took it with a grateful smile.

"To Robin of Locksley," Guy offered a toast for his former enemy.

For a moment, Allan looked abashed, but then he smiled. "To Robin Hood," he said.

Allan and Guy sat in a silence for a minute, slowly drinking wine and giving a tribute to Robin Hood.

"What about your connection to Robin and me?" Guy inquired after a pause.

There was a small grin on Allan's face as he began singing the song about Robin Hood, and Guy smiled.

_Robin Hood, Robin Hood, riding through the glen_

_Robin Hood, Robin Hood, with his band of men_

_Feared by the bad, loved by the good_

_Robin Hood, Robin Hood, Robin Hood!_

_He called the greatest archers to a tavern on the green_

_They vowed to help the people of the King_

_They handled all the trouble on the English country scene_

_And still found plenty of time to sing._

Allan looked almost happy when he finished the song. "Robin and you changed me in too many ways." Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborne had turned his life upside down, and there was much he could say on the matter.

* * *

><p><em>I hope you truly enjoyed this chapter and the plot.<em>

_I am sorry for a delay in updating, but some readers asked me to give them time to catch up on the story. I don't know whether I did the right thing as I made other readers wait, but I hope that you are not very angry with me. Anyway, I didn't have time for the Robin Hood fandom in the past month._

_This chapter is very sad because everyone is mourning for Robin. Robin Hood's death is a dramatic event, even more dramatic than Marian's death, so we needed a chapter for everyone to reconcile with the thought that Robin is gone forever. I have some good news for fans of Robin who were very annoyed with me for killing off Robin: you will learn about Robin's fate in the next chapter._

_Marian is grieving, and she must grieve because Robin's death means the death of the part of her own life. She has too much in common with Robin, and they spent much time together. It is normal that she is heartbroken. Marian is grieving in solitude because it is her character: she is a loner by nature on the show and it seems that she even doesn't have many friends. So she doesn't need anyone now._

_I introduced Allan's back story, like I gave you Much's backstory in the previous chapter; I am just trying to give more "depth" to the characters. I hope you liked my idea that Allan is a descendant of a dispossessed nobleman. I wanted something original for Allan, and I also wanted Allan to have something else in common with Guy because they are friends. Guy needs a friend because you surely understand that Robin's friends are not going to warm up to him anytime soon._

_The 17th century introduced the minstrel Alan-a-Dale into the legend, and I decided to adhere to this version. So Allan is going to compose songs and ballads about Robin, making Robin more immortal than the legend of England has already become._

**_Reviews are always appreciated. I do really need your support._**

_Thank you for reading this chapter. Have a lovely weekend._

_Yours faithfully, Penelope Clemence_


	12. Chapter 11 Departure from Acre

**Chapter 11**

** Departure from Acre **

The light from two burning torches had a red shade, which cast a soft, fiery glow over everything in the chamber, making human skin seem flushed. Allan didn't speak for a while, planning his speech, and Guy was growing annoyed and impatient with the other man.

"Tell me finally, what Robin and I did for you," Guy requested.

"Robin showed me that a nobleman of a very high station can neglect his birthright, throwing away his lofty titles and wealth just because he is righteous and wants to save innocent people." Allan smiled sadly. "I admired Robin since our first meeting in the forest; I grew to love Robin as a friend, though he… wasn't very courteous towards me after he unmasked my betrayal and before… his death."

"I have suspected that you admire Robin Hood."

"Well, who does not admire Robin? He is… was… a great man," Allan murmured. "Or do Robin's actions towards you disagree with what you believed about him to be true?

"Hood… Robin… was a man of great bravery and great goodness."

"Good that you finally agree with us."

Guy smiled slightly. "I cannot deny that."

Allan's face evolved into contemplation, a rather unusual expression for an easy-going and knavish opportunist. "I have never considered Robin a knight in shining armor, like Little John. Robin was righteous, annoying, arrogant, and often selfish, but he was strong, honest, loyal, compassionate, clever, witty, brave, and self-sacrificing. His outstanding ability to always have his way irritated me beyond measure. And there was nothing evil in him, though he could have been… very dark at times."

"Robin could control his darkness very well if he wanted that." In the minutes when he was especially disgusted with Vaisey and himself, Guy envied Robin's ability to suppress his instincts of a killer.

"Yes," Allan said. "I always wondered how Robin Hood managed not to kill in Nottingham after what he had done on the Crusade. When I once saw Robin training alone in the forest with his Saracen sword, I was stunned with the types of lunges and blows he never used in Nottingham. Later I watched Robin fighting with the sheriff's guards on the Great North Road when Vaisey disguised himself as the Bishop of Hereford, and Robin went berserk with rage." He relapsed in silence for a moment. "I was frightened of Robin at such moments, of what I saw – his aggressiveness, fierceness, agility, and brutality."

"Anyone would have been scared."

Allan looked into the flames of the fire. "Robin taught me a lesson that my life was not honorable. He proved to me that you can have nothing, give everything you get by robbing the nobles to the people, and be happy. Robin showed that I could change and become a better man who helps people selflessly and respects himself for good deals, and I will be forever grateful to him for that."

"What about me, Allan?" Guy rose to his feet and walked to the table. He filled two silver goblets of wine for himself and Allan. Then he returned to his chair and handed one goblet to Allan.

"Guy, I cannot say that I was happy to get acquainted with you as much as I was happy to meet Robin for the first time. I was one of the outlaws, and I despised you, like my friends. You hunted us down and wanted to kill each of us. You worked for the sheriff who killed my brother Tom." Allan trailed off and sipped wine; a large smile lit up his face as he enjoyed the taste of red wine. "When you tortured me in the dungeon and coerced me into the betrayal of the gang, I hated you very much. I was a reluctant informer, and I considered myself guilty of betraying my friends."

"It is quite understandable."

"Later, when I worked for you, I saw another side to you," Allan continued. He paused, slowly sipping wine. "I saw that you are a good man and that your past tormented you. I thought that something had happened to you in the past, and only now Marian told me about… your old enmity with Robin."

Guy almost chocked with wine. "What did she tell you?"

"A few things. Only that the Gisborne lands were included into the Locksley estates after your father had been declared a leper and had been banished. And she also told me why Robin hated you."

"Because I started the fire," Guy finished for him.

"Yes." Allan nodded. "I am confused why Robin didn't let his hatred go earlier. He wasn't a cruel and vengeful man." He emptied his goblet. "Well, I guess he had his own reasons, for you tried to kill the king and sided with the sheriff."

"Marian told you only about the fire, didn't she?"

"Yes, Guy, nothing else. And should she say something else?"

"No, of course, no," Guy replied, shaking his head.

Guy silently thanked God that her current distress didn't loosen Marian's tongue; they didn't need to have problems with the king. He knew the outcome if they were talkative – premature death. They could tell others only the official version of the story, which Guy and Robin had always known.

"When I saw kindness and goodness in your heart, I was sure that you can be a different man," Allan said quietly with a smile. "Guy, you were quite heroic during the siege of Nottingham, and I was proud of you at that moment. Robin saved the town and the people from Prince John's troops, but you managed to maintain people's spirit before Robin delivered the Sheriff to Nottingham."

Guy smiled. "You are one of the few who were able to see something good in me."

"Marian and I knew about that." Allan placed the goblet on floor near his armchair.

"Yes."

"Robin demonstrated to me that what it means to be a good and compassionate man, but you taught me another invaluable lesson," Allan began mysteriously, his blue eyes piercing Guy. He was quiet for a while, collecting his thoughts. "You and I were lost souls, and we both were misguided. And when I looked at you, I thought that I could see a man who was lost in the world and was trying to find his way to what he wanted to achieve."

"But there is something else?" Guy leaned down and slammed his empty goblet on the floor.

"I am gonna be straightforward, mate." Allan emitted a heavy sigh. "On your example, Guy, I came to the conclusion that I can become a man whose misguided loyalties can lead him to the point where he is tormented not only by his demons, but is also overwhelmed by… self-loathing and self-disgust, I am sorry to say that. Your example proved that I should do everything to avoid following your path." He smiled and outstretched his arms. "You also showed that even villains might have a heart. You proved that an evil man can have much hidden goodness and that anyone is not everything we see at first glance. Nobody should be taken… at face value." His arms went to his sides.

Guy laughed softly. "You can talk not only about money, and you really have quite good understanding of human nature." His face darkened. "But your theatrics remind me of someone."

"The sheriff," Allan assumed.

"Exactly." Guy clenched his fists.

"Sorry, mate."

"Now please tell me about your reward," Guy changed the topic.

Allan's face was aflame with gladness. "The king gave me what I had never thought I would ever have back. I am gonna say that I love the king and Robin."

"What?" Guy smiled.

"The king gave me the lands my father had owned before he was dispossessed," Allan informed, his eyes sparkling with happiness. "Now I am Allan of Heywood, Baron of Rochdale."

Guy's expression evolved into amazement and then understanding. He smiled heartily, and it was not a tiny sarcastic smile that Allan and everyone were accustomed to see on Guy's face. "I am happy that you were re-instated to your noble status. It is very good that you are now like me."

"I am not a knight, but I think I can have knighthood training." Allan giggled. "And I am not holding two titles like Robin." He stopped himself, his face turning serious. "Oh, I am talking about him as if he were alive. It is really difficult to believe that Robin is no longer with us."

"I cannot believe either. Robin seemed to be invincible, and yet… he was a mortal. I cannot forget how he lay there… with his own scimitar…" He stumbled with words.

"I was awful," Allan said. "I was horrified when I saw Robin… on the blood-soaked sand. There was so much blood, as if three people had been stabbed."

Guy's lips thinned, his face was grave. "Allan, I beg your pardon, but I cannot talk about that."

"I agree. It is better… not to talk that."

Guy and Allan relapsed into a long silence, everyone thinking of Robin and of the tragedy.

Guy stared at Allan. "Allan, tell me one thing," he drawled every word. "Did you know that Robin had been betrothed to Marian before I married her? He must have proposed to her after his return."

Allan turned his gaze at Guy; his eyes went wide. "You know, don't you?"

The steel blue eyes flashed. "Marian told me about that."

"Oh, Maz is a bold girl," Allan said hurriedly. "When did she tell you? She didn't want you to know."

"It is not your deal," Guy retorted. "So you knew that Marian had married me while she were still betrothed to Robin." He stood up abruptly and went to the window. "I guess the outlaws also knew. It seems that Robin and I were the only ones who were deceived."

"Guy, do you really care? It is strange that you had the change of heart so quickly."

Guy swung around, looking at Allan with an intensive gaze. "I wouldn't have cared a year ago, but now… the situation changed." He smiled regretfully. "Everything changed – my life changed. I learnt many things I had never known before. And now I know that I misjudged Robin."

Allan looked utterly astonished. "Ah, I never thought to hear these words from you, mate."

"But you hear them."

"Well, I understand you. Robin asked the king to pardon you, and you have your lands back." Allan's voice trailed off, and he glanced at Guy uncertainly.

Guy returned to the armchair and sat down. "Many things changed, but it is out of your business."

"I am not gonna ask anything else, Guy."

"Good decision, Allan." Guy leaned back in his seat and stretched out his long legs and crossed his booted feet at the ankle. "You seem to be quite close to Marian. Did she say something about her relationship with Robin after our marriage?"

With amusement in his eyes, Allan glanced at Guy's serious face and said, "Well, Maz remembered Robin from time to time. I think that she was worried about him because he disappeared." He feared to say something else in order not to hurt Guy.

Guy shut his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Did she love Robin when she married me?"

"Guy, it is a difficult question."

Guy opened his eyes, a vulnerable expression on his face. "I need to know your opinion. Did she love Robin? Did he love her?"

An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. In a silence, Guy could hear his heart hammering in his chest as he waited for an answer which he had already known in advance and dreaded.

Allan bit his bottom lip. "Guy, I… think Maz missed Robin very much." He paused, thinking whether he should have continued. But Robin was dead, and the truth could be revealed now. "I am sorry, Guy, but I think Maz loved Robin very much. Their relationship was… very difficult: Robin was an outlaw at that time, she was angry with Robin, and he was jealous." He pursed his lips. "But Maz wasn't indifferent to you, believe me, mate. I think that she was torn between you and Robin."

"Thank you, Allan. You said what I had already suspected. Now I know the truth."

Guy glanced away, and Allan was quiet, watching the older man frown his forehead. Suddenly, one of the torches flared up, cracking and snapping noisily, the flames soaring upward as if blown by the wind. As they stared at that torch, the flames slowly died down to the cheerful little blaze that had been there only a moment ago.

"Look, Guy! The flame!" Allan sounded amazed.

Guy sighed. "This flame is like a woman's passion for a man. It flares up and down, and tomorrow she wants another man. In the end, she doesn't know whom she wants, and everyone suffers."

Allan didn't comment on Guy's words. He could see anguish in Guy's eyes and then heard him mutter something in Norman-French, but he didn't understand that. He didn't remember Norman-French very well as he had been too young when his father had been dispossessed, and he hadn't been given a chance to receive good education. Allan decided that he had no right to interfere into Guy and Marian's relations. He hoped that Guy wouldn't ask him anything else.

§§§

It was very early yet – the sun had barely risen – when Roger de Tosny knocked at the door of Guy's bedchamber and notified that King Richard had summoned Guy and Marian to his chambers for an urgent audience. They were supposed to sail from Acre at midday, and the second audience with the king was the most unexpected thing to happen on that morning. Fear gripped Guy's heart, fear that the king had decided to revoke his pardon and execute him. Marian had the same thoughts. They both struggled with the sick dread that lurked in the back of their heads.

Roger de Tosny opened the door, letting Marian and Guy go ahead. This time the audience was given not in the bloody room, but indeed in the king's presence chamber. The king felt much better and had already started accepting visitors, at the same time preparing to sail from Acre soon.

They entered a fair-sized room evidently used for both sitting and eating, with a high white ceiling, multicolored velvet hangings and tapestries on the walls, oak furniture and, last of all, the great canvas depicting the imposing figure of King Richard the Lionheart capturing Acre. The presence chamber was spacious and beautifully decorated, soothing to the grim frame of mind of the king's guests.

In accordance with the official protocol, Guy bowed deeply. Marian sank into a curtsey.

"Milord, we came here at your request," Guy began calmly, feeling beads of cold sweet gathering on his neck, his outward calmness hiding his fears.

"Sire," Marian murmured, feeling uncomfortable in front of the king. Determinedly, she shook off her melancholic thoughts and noticed that the king was not alone – his cousin Melisende was there.

"Rise and sit down," King Richard permitted.

Guy seated himself into a chair, cursing in his mind that he was still clad in black leather. The heat was overpowering even in the early hours, banishing the refreshing effect of the faint breeze from the sea. Marian also sat down, leaning her head back against the back of a chair and smoothing her skirts.

"Did you stop on Cyprus on the way to the Holy Land?" the king asked without any preamble.

Marian and Guy looked at their sovereign. Richard looked clearly displeased. They noted the paleness of the king's face and his still bandaged wound, but he definitely looked a little healthier and less worn-out today. The king wore royal purple silk tunic with a jeweled belt on his waist, refusing to wear mourning for Robin any longer, for Robin was alive for him in his heart.

"Yes, we did. We spent several hours there," Guy replied.

"And?" Richard prompted to speak.

Guy sighed. "The sheriff killed Guy de Lusignan, the King of Cyprus, when we made a short stop on Cyprus. He was the Black Knights' spy in the Holy Land," he reported.

Perturbed and intrigued, the king glanced away and stared at the window, his mind rapidly reviewing what he had just learnt. Marian blanched at Guy's words, while Melisende only numbly shook her head.

"The sheriff seems to like killing Kings," Melisende broke a small, appalled silence.

"Today in the morning, I have received the news that Guy de Lusignan's body was discovered in a small tavern in the harbor of Limassol; he was disguised, not wearing his kingly robes," Richard informed, a rueful gleam in his blue eyes. "This is the reason why I asked you to come here."

"Guy de Lusignan was buried at the Church of the Templars in Nicosia," Melisende added.

Guy stiffened as if the lion had rammed the fist into his face, and for an instant there was fear in his eyes. "Prince John's assassin, Archer, and I witnessed de Lusignan's murder. We both were shocked."

The Lionheart's face was harder, and there was ruthlessness to the slant of his mouth that they hadn't seen on the king's face before. "I see," he said dryly. "I suppose I should be pleased that Sheriff Vaisey killed one of the Black Knights? My men will have less work to do. What do you think, Gisborne?"

Marian and Guy shuddered at the sensible feeling of the cruel, deathly fog enveloping the king's imposing figure. With baited breath, they watched the flush of rage that crossed the lion's face.

"I don't know." Guy drew a hand through his hair.

Smiling ruefully, the king mocked, "Playing shy, Sir Guy? Nothing else to say?"

"Nothing, sire," Guy admitted grudgingly.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" Richard demanded, clearly displeased.

Guy was horrified, barely managing to look calm. "We talked about the past, sire. I told you only about the crimes I committed at Vaisey's behest. I didn't kill Guy de Lusignan, and, thus, I said nothing."

The king stared at Guy with icy blue eyes and shook his head a decisive no. "This is not a justification," he parried. "If there is something else I don't know, then you must tell me about that now; I want to know about all the plans Prince John and the Black Knights can have. Otherwise I can make you regret that you didn't cooperate with me as much as you should have done that."

"I swear I would have told you if I knew something else." The statement came low and confidently from Guy. "As Robin killed Robert de Sablé, I suppose you have the Pact of Caen and the Pact of Nottingham. If Vaisey planned something else to kill you, I really have no idea about that."

"Very well then." The king's brilliantly blue eyes revealed tiredness, and he sighed deeply.

"Two more things," Guy said. "The sheriff also killed Sir Legrand de Walcott in Nottingham."

The lion nodded. "I know. Roger de Lacy told me about that. What else?"

"Prince John knows that Queen Eleanor has an illegitimate son, the so-called golden boy. He has spies in the queen's household, but I don't know their names," Guy reported.

Nodding in agreement, the king smiled reassuringly. "Trust me that I know everything. Vaisey charged you, Sir Guy, and Allan-a-dale, your former right-hand man, with the mission to find my mother's son and murder him, and it was one of the reasons why I recalled Robin back to Acre, wishing to keep him close to me." His face darkened. "But my attempts were futile. Vaisey killed him not knowing whose life he took." Beyond that he would say no more.

Guy blanched at the realization that Allan had told Richard everything. A piercing pain of betrayal again transfixed his chest; he had grown so fond of Allan, but even Allan had betrayed him. "We didn't find the queen's son, and Prince John was very angry with the sheriff," he said, lowering his head.

The king smiled knowingly. "You could make up only a list of suspects."

"That's exactly what happened, milord," Guy confirmed.

"The spies in Aunt Eleanor's entourage! They are too dangerous," Melisende returned heatedly, her face changing into an anxious expression. "I don't want my child to be in danger because of John's ambitions and his hatred for Aunt Eleanor."

"Calm down, my dear. John's spies are already dead," King Richard said calmly. He glared at Marian and Guy. "Nobody knows about Robin's true parentage, and nobody should ever know about it. I will never allow anyone to disgrace my mother's name and endanger the life of Robin's child." He narrowed his eyes. "If you, Sir Guy, or even you, Lady Marian, ever utter a word about the matter, I will have to use drastic measures, which I am not fond of trying on either of you. Is that clear?"

The king chose to repeat his warnings. Marian and Guy nodded in understanding, knowing that the king didn't joke; Richard only nodded back at them, signaling that they had come to agreement.

The coldness and ruthlessness in the king's voice left Marian feeling slightly lightheaded, for she wasn't accustomed to be highly praised one day and then threatened, but she, of course, understood the lion's motives. She was also appalled at how easily the king was talking about death and the murder of people who could have betrayed him. Marian looked at Guy, and, almost reading his mind, realized that they were treading on dangerous ground. Richard Plantagenet was a cunning, vengeful, and powerful man, who could have destroyed them by simply snapping his fingers if he wished to do that.

"Who will be King of Cyprus now?" Marian was merely curious.

"Guy de Lusignan had no surviving issue as his daughters by Sibylla of Jerusalem – Alix and Marie – both died young of plague in Acre four years ago," the king enlightened, his features softening. "Some time ago, I sent the Earl of Leicester and Henry de Champagne to negotiate who will succeed him, and he agreed on the subject of de Lusignan's successor. Aimery de Lusignan has already succeeded Guy, and he seems to be at my side."

A long silence reigned in the chamber.

Richard stared at Guy. "It has come to my knowledge that you are extremely angry with Lord Vaisey."

"Yes, I am, sire." Guy blinked in amazement. Did Richard have his spies everywhere? He was certainly much more than Guy had even thought of him before.

"I don't want you to kill Sheriff Vaisey," Richard said uncompromisingly.

Staring at Richard, his gaze hard and cold, Guy spoke. "Vaisey humiliated me throughout many years. He is guilty of the fact that my own father, King Henry, never believed that I am his son! Vaisey used me throughout so many years! He brought everything evil and black that has ever been in my heart! I cannot forget about that and forgive him!"

"Sir Guy, leave the sheriff's fate to my loyal men. He will get his comeuppance, like all the Black Knights," Richard said in a commanding tone. "Don't make your life more complicated. He may kill you."

"Vaisey will not kill me. I will kill him," Guy objected passionately. "I want him dead at my blade."

"Gisborne, be rational," the king admonished. "You don't know what you will find in Nottingham." The raw, deep pain flickered in his eyes before his gaze turned blank. "We all have underestimated Vaisey's craftiness and wickedness, and it is mainly my fault. I should have known that Vaisey would do something outrageous to break the trust between Robin and me." His tone was steady and neutral, but there was guilt beneath the shell of neutrality.

"I have never expected that my sister Isabella conspired with Prince John and the sheriff." Guy turned away his head, thinking that the king was absolutely right that they had underestimated Vaisey's wickedness.

"We made many mistakes, and nothing can be undone now," the king summed up, his voice sad and silken. "The tragedy in the courtyard was a tragic coincidence. Everything just went wrong at the beginning, and then we just tumbled down a huge hill."

"If I go to Nottingham, I won't do these mistakes again," Guy declared with confidence.

Richard gave him a stern look. "You never know what Lord Vaisey would do. He is unpredictable and ruthless; cunning is in his blood. It makes him immensely dangerous."

"Vaisey has always been dark and dangerous," Guy interjected.

"Vaisey has no warm blood. He has ice in his veins." The king looked at Guy with barely concealed anger at his stubborn subject. "His potential for ruthlessness and deceit is very deep. We must be very cautious with him."

Marian noticed the gathering fury on Richard's face, fearing the explosion of his temper. "Guy, listen to our liege. You shouldn't even think about killing the sheriff."

"I agree with Richard," Melisende interposed, her expression immensely serious. "I don't think that you, Sir Guy, can return to Nottingham. The sheriff will order to arrest you."

"Vaisey will just kill you, Gisborne," the lion said directly.

Guy could imagine how he would place a dagger against the sheriff's neck and slash the evil throat. He wanted Vaisey's blood with every fibre of his heart and soul. "He will do nothing if I myself kill him."

"Be wise, Sir Guy," Melisende contravened. "You won't be felicitous if you return to England: most likely, you will be killed if you appear in Nottingham. Alternatively, you will have to escape from the shire in disguise to stay alive. Remember Sir William de Longchamp, who is so devoted to Richard and whom the people call _a bandy-legged little foreigner_." She gave a wan smile. "Now de Longchamp lives at Aunt Eleanor's court. He had to flee England in various disguises because of John's plot against him when the Council declared his offices forfeit."

"Maybe you are right." Guy blindly looked at the lion.

Richard smiled sadly. "I don't think that clothes of a monk or even female clothes are suitable for Sir Guy, like it was in de Longchamp's case. Black leather suits him better."

Folding her arms over her chest, Marian looked at the king, rejoiced that he was finally amicable. "Definitely, I cannot imagine Guy in a woman's gown."

Guy was a little moved by Richard's joke. "Oh, maybe black leather is even worse." Black leather and everything black reminded him of the sheriff, and he felt hot anger boiling in his blood. Vaisey had a black heart, but Guy didn't, and Vaisey would pay for everything, he took an oath in spite of the king's warnings. The rage at Vaisey was hot and hard and impossible to swallow for Guy.

"Don't go to Nottingham until my return to England, Sir Guy," Richard warned, as if he were able to read Guy's thoughts.

"Guy won't go there," Marian said, but it didn't erase the feeling that Guy would do the opposite thing.

"Remember what I told you about secrecy," Richard reminded. "If I ever learn that one of you broke our agreement, retribution will be harsh. Punishment is death."

Marian blanched, a shiver running down her spine. "I swear that I will never utter a word."

"I know. I will not betray you, milord," Guy said sincerely. "You have my deepest and most heartfelt gratitude for granting me pardon and for telling me the truth."

"I believe Gisborne will be loyal to you, Richard," Melisende said, albeit reluctantly. "Now he knows the truth. He cannot go back to Vaisey. He has no reason to betray you."

Guy smiled at Melisende. He liked the king's cousin and, of course, found her outstandingly beautiful. Like Marian, he understood why Robin could find happiness in his arranged marriage.

The king measured Guy with a half skeptical look. "I hope so."

"I will be loyal to you, sire. I know that I owe you… and Robin a tremendous debt of gratitude for my pardon," Guy said evenly; he wasn't sure that the king believed him, and he was right.

"Very well," Richard retorted.

Guy took a deep breath and began earnestly, "Sire, one more question?"

"Go on," the lion prompted.

"What will happen to my sister Isabella?" Guy's voice sounded humble.

"Lady Isabella participated in regicide," the king replied dully. "Roger de Lacy told me many things about Lady Isabella's association with my brother John, and I believe him. I will think about her fate later; there are some other things to be dealt with first."

Guy stiffened at the king's words. "Sire, with all due respect, she is my sister–"

Richard cut him off sharply. "I can promise you nothing."

"Of course, milord," Guy said.

"Do you have any other questions?" Richard inquired.

"No, I don't." Guy replied briefly. "Thank you very much, milord."

"Very well." The king turned his gaze at his cousin. "Melisende, you are leaving Acre the day after tomorrow. The Earl of Leicester will accompany you to Aquitaine, and you will stay with my mother there. Mother will need your support, and she will be happy to have you by her side."

"Who will travel with you, Richard? Why are you sending everyone away?" Melisende threw her cousin a startled glance, her eyes filled with unasked questions.

"I will leave in a week, for I still need some time to recover," Richard supplied. "André de Chauvigny will be with me; I appointed him captain of my private guard."

Melisende looked alarmed. "Richard, it is not the brightest idea of yours!"

Stubbornly, Richard shook his head. "No! This is my final decision! I have my own plan. André and my other loyal men are enough to keep me safe," he said conclusively. "You, Melisende, will be alright, and I can trust your life and the life of your unborn child only to Robert. Then Robert will leave for Normandy to command the army against Philippe there. Roger de Lacy will stay in the north of England, controlling our strongholds against John."

"As you wish, Richard." Melisende swallowed uncomfortably and admitted defeat. The thought that she would be accompanied home, to Aquitaine, by the Earl of Leicester of all the king's loyal men, her former lover and Robin's close friend, was both strange and soothing.

Marian and Guy shared bewildered glances. The king was a stubborn and desperate man if he had wanted and had decided something.

Richard climbed to his feet. He repressed a small groan as his bandaged hand still disturbed him; the infection from Vaisey's arrow had complicated the matter of his quick recovery. "I have already talked to Allan about the Black Knights, but I also want to talk to you, Sir Guy. You surely know more than Allan. I hope you can allow yourself to spend an hour more here."

"Of course, sire. We have already packed our things, and I have time." Guy rose to his feet and bowed with barely suppressed delight; he was thrilled to be on more amicable terms with the king.

"Good," Richard said shortly, motioning Guy to go to the adjacent room.

Guy felt that King Richard's attitude to him had improved a little bit in the past days. The king still loathed him, but there definitely was cold respect from the monarch's side. And the king accepted the reality that he had pardoned Guy and that he could have used him for his purposes.

There were no deep love, no friendly affection, and no simple sympathy in Guy's relationship with King Richard – there was only cold respect and utter practicality, mingled with loathing Richard felt for Guy on the back of the two assassination attempts on his life. Most importantly, there was no hatred and no humiliation, a sharp contrast to Guy's relationship with the sheriff. At least the king wasn't lying to him and using him without giving anything in return: Richard had pardoned him, even though it had happened only at Robin's request.

As the king and Guy left the room, Marian and Melisende remained alone. It was an unusual moment for both of them. The Lady of Knighton Hall and the Lady of the Plantagenet royal house; the knight's daughter and the king's blood cousin; the former betrothed of Robin Hood, all the more twice betrothed, and the wife of Robin Hood; the woman whom Robin had loved and the woman whom Robin had been quickly falling for; the woman who had rejected him and the woman who had fallen in love with him in the months since their meeting in Limassol.

Marian lowered her head and studied her bronze-green silk gown that was cut so shockingly low that it revealed more of her full, firm breasts than it concealed; her hair was loosely secured to the top of her head in the finest Aquitanian fashion. She was again given a gown by one of Lady Melisende's lady-in-waiting: she still had nothing to wear and it was difficult to find something in Christian style in Acre.

The scent of the violet perfume drifted pleasantly to Marian's nostrils, and she turned her head to look at Melisende. She smiled at Robin's wife – Robin's widow. Elegantly dressed in a stylish, low-cut gown of light violet silk with a frivolous long train made out of purple taffeta that swept the floor, Melisende was one of the most beautiful she had ever met, Marian thought. Marian was impressed that the king's cousin had red-gold hair and violet eyes, which made the young royal lady truly unforgettable. Marian had thought that Isabella was a very beautiful woman, but Isabella's appearance paled as compared to Melisende's.

Marian was happily aware that she herself was a very beautiful woman, a rare beauty as she had heard about herself from many of her suitors, with her impressive sapphire blue eyes and her alabaster skin, knowing that even her small, reserved smile gave her an official yet flirtatious air, while the lovely curves of her waist and firm little bosom could charm and seduce men. Yet, she didn't look like a stunning, unforgettable seductress when she was close to Melisende, who was royally beautiful, cold and regal, enigmatic and captivating as she radiated mystery in every inch of herself. She understood why Robin could have been falling for his young wife, attracted to her queenly and blossoming beauty.

Melisende slowly rose to her feet and walked to the large wooden table overloaded with parchments – King Richard's letters and correspondence. She took a carefully wrapped object from beneath one of the parchments, and swung around, heading in Marian's direction.

Melisende paused near Marian, her eyes taking in the slumped shoulders of her rival for Robin's heart. "I reckon it is yours, Lady Marian," she said coldly as she gave the other woman the wrapped object.

Abashed, Marian jumped to her feet. "What is it?"

"Have a look." Melisende stepped aside.

With almost reverent hands, Marian undid the wrappings. Her heart sank into her throat as she saw her own old sapphire brooch. For a long time, she gazed at it, almost mesmerized by the glittering sapphires. Then her lips curled into a wistful smile, and the fierce tears of shame, pain, and humiliation sparkled like diamond drops in her eyes. Obviously, Robin had given the brooch to his wife or King Richard before his death, not to Marian, and it both enraged and saddened her.

There was a sudden, waiting silence, a tense silence, a vague disquietude stirring in the air. The enormity of what that brooch meant to Marian was sinking in her head.

Marian looked at Melisende with naked pain in her eyes. "How did you get this brooch?"

"Robin gave it to Richard when he lay dying in Imuiz. He used this brooch to unlock the shackles after Richard had mistakenly proclaimed him a traitor and had ordered to arrest him. After that, he escaped from the Crusaders' camp and saved his friends, including you, in the desert."

"Oh my Lord!" Melisende's words buzzed around in Marian's brain as she tried to grasp their meaning.

"If I am not mistaken, you saved Robin's life by giving him this brooch when he had been captured by the sheriff for the first time after being outlawed." Despite her politeness, the displeasure Melisende felt was plain on her face. "Now this brooch also saved your life."

"How can you know so much?" Marian whispered, gazing at her in horror.

"Robin told Richard what this brooch means and asked him to give it to you," Melisende said truthfully. "There is nothing wrong in that. Robin was close to Richard and trusted him."

"He could have given it to me when we had our farewell."

"I think Robin was tactful enough to avoid doing that in Sir Guy's presence."

Marian gave a nod, numbly. "Maybe." She smiled, looking at the brooch. "It is one of Robin's old gifts. He gave me this brooch many years ago when he courted me before the Holy Land."

"Then you simply must have it."

"It is a memory about the past."

"Now you have it in your possession, Lady Marian. It is yours."

"Thank you, Lady Melisende."

An embarrassed quiet fell over the two ladies, the silence tightening as the very air seemed to vibrate with the violence of their emotions.

"Were you happy with Robin?" Marian asked suddenly, unexpectedly for herself.

"I loved Robin, and I love him still," Melisende confessed; there was endless anguish in her violet eyes. "I think that I have loved him from the moment I met him in the moonlit garden in Limassol. He was lonely and sad, and I could see his heartbreak. I was charmed by his handsome appearance – by his cheeky smile, a posture of a swaggerer and more by his sincere, pale blue eyes with so many mysteries in their depths. I knew instantly that my heart would never belong to any other man."

"Oh," Marian breathed.

"Robin told Richard that he could grow to love me over time and that he was very fond of me," Melisende continued, her face decidedly regretful. "Maybe it could happen. Nobody knows."

"I am glad that Robin made you happy." Marian felt a tremor going through her body.

"Robin was a kind, good man. He would have made any woman happy." Melisende gave a light smile. "You are an unusual woman, Lady Marian. You are beautiful, clever, intelligent, stubborn, and fearless. You did many things which other women couldn't ever imagine they can do," she said with undeniable respect. "Yet, you made a man who loved you to choose between the king and you. It is not what a well-bred and clever woman can do to a loyal knight of our king."

Astonishment made Marian's eyes go nearly round with wonder; Robin had told his wife everything, and she was both amazed and appalled with that. "Maybe I should have acted differently."

"You wronged Robin."

Marian recovered her confidence. "Lady Melisende, you are the king's cousin, Plantagenet by birth. Your royal blood makes you ultimately and unconditionally loyal to King Richard and to any King of the Plantagenet house. You view loyalty to England in the same way Robin perceived it." Her eyes challenged Melisende. "I don't belong to any royal family. I look at many things in a different light."

A deathly silence descended, and Melisende surveyed Marian's proud face. "A wise answer," she said at last. "Right. Robin and I saw more than a King and a symbol of sacred royal blood in Richard."

"Then we understand each another."

"And, yet, it wasn't the right thing to marry another man when you were betrothed to Robin," Melisende remarked acidly. Then she smiled sadly. "But I have to say that I don't blame you for that. I am even grateful to you because I had a chance to be married to the only man whom I can ever truly love."

"Thank you for outlining my faults, Lady Melisende, but I myself know what to do," Marian said bluntly, a little rudely. Yet, deep inside, she admitted that Melisende was right.

"Lady Marian, I have nothing against you," Melisende hurried to say. "But I have to admit that I am angry with you, for Robin was a tormented and heartbroken soul. I saw how deeply he was wounded by your… rejection. I felt his pain and wished to take it away as much as I could."

"And you masterfully managed to do that, Lady Melisende. Robin said that he was content and happy in his marriage when Guy, he, and I were alone near the wounded King."

"I know. Richard told me."

"Ah, I see."

There was such a profound sadness in Melisende's smile that everyone's heart could have collapsed on the spot. "How hollow and insincere it sounds when someone says, 'I am determined to be perfectly straightforward with you'; it was said by Marcus Aurelius. It is also fair in a real life."

"Much truth is spoken, but even more may be concealed," Marian shot back.

The king's cousin scrutinized Marian with a critical eye, thinking that Robin's former betrothed was a unique, unforgettable woman. "You are a remarkable woman, and I understand Robin's emotional attachment to you. I just want to say one more thing," she said softly. "I also had my own mysteries, but I told Robin everything in the beginning. Marriage cannot be based on lies and secrets."

With a knock at the door, Lady Catherine de Mathefelon entered and, curtsying to the king's cousin and giving Marian a sly smile, announced that the Earl of Leicester waited for Melisende outside. Melisende gave Marian a small smile and dropped a curtsy; then she hurried to the door, and Lady Catherine opened it for her mistress; then they both disappeared in the corridor.

Slightly mystified and pressing her sapphire brooch to her heart, Marian stared at the closed door. Melisende's words hung in the air, and she thought that Melisende was absolutely right in many things. She could have never had a warm friendship with Robin's wife, but she was greatly impressed by the other woman. Marian sensed that if Robin had been alive, he would have preferred to be with the king's cousin than with her, for she understood him and their loyalties were with King Richard and England; but it was like deathblow for her pride and self-esteem.

§§§

In several hours, Marian stood on the deck of the ship and watched the yellow coastline of Acre disappear in a distance. They were on the way to England or somewhere else; in a small, leather pouch around her waist rested the wrapped sapphire brooch. Gazing at the widening expanse of the blue-green water, Marian felt that her world was completely shattered, for Robin was dead and she couldn't deny that she blamed Guy and herself for his death, but her face was expressionless.

Suddenly, she remembered Robin's ring which he had given her on their first engagement – a stunning silver ring featuring the massive sapphire center carved in the shape of a flower and three small oval cut diamonds set around the sapphire; she again wondered whether it had been lost in Sherwood, after their last meeting before his departure to the Holy Land, or whether Robin had found it. Once she had thrown that ring into Robin's face, but now she would have given everything to have this ring back in the memory of Robin. For whatever reason, she didn't want to have back her second engagement ring with a large oval cut emerald surrounded by a sunburst of diamonds; she liked the first one more.

Guy approached Marian from the back. Like Marian, he watched the disappearing golden sandy dunes that spread thousand miles to the west of Acre. His thoughts were occupied with his revenge on Vaisey. Somewhere across the ever-decreasing distance, there was a man whom he would kill as soon as he arrived in Nottingham, he swore. For a minute, a flash of something approaching mortal hatred cut through him as the memory of Vaisey's smug, sneering face and his rancorous, taunting voice leaped to his mind.

Marian extracted the sapphire brooch Melisende had given her today. She clasped it on the collar of her gown, lingering her finger at the jewelry, touching the sapphire stone with her hand as if she were caressing it, and then taking it away. Before boarding the ship, she had changed her clothes and now wore a plain low-cut gown of dark blue silk with airy sleeves trimmed with lace on the wristbands.

"I cannot believe that Robin is… no longer in this world," Marian whispered. Unshed tears pooled in her throat, and she swallowed heavily. "I cannot believe that the sheriff killed him."

"But it is the reality, and you have to accept the fact of his death."

Marian tossed her head in despair. Her mind drifted back to Robin. "I cannot forget this horror. We could have saved Robin." She drew a whizzing breath, her expression hardening. "You should have killed the sheriff on the board of the ship or in Acre."

"There were reasons for my actions… compelling reasons. But he had Isabella and you–"

Marian interrupted him. "Don't say anything to justify yourself, Guy. I asked you to turn against the sheriff and kill him many times, but you always found a reason to wait and hold back."

Guiltily conscious of the truth of her words, Guy couldn't smother the heartfelt apology that hovered on his lips. "I know. I regret that I didn't kill Vaisey before."

"I don't doubt that the king's men will deal with Vaisey, but it won't return Robin alive to us."

His eyes locked painfully on her face, Guy sighed. "I regret Robin's death, but I can change nothing."

"Oh, poor Guy," Marian said irritably, drawling each word. "I have once told you that Robin is a good and honest man, despite everything bad you told me about his not-so-honorable actions in childhood." She scoffed. "Didn't Robin prove that to you on deathbed? Didn't the king tell you enough about Robin and the mysteries of the past?"

"He was a good man," Guy agreed.

"I just don't want Robin dead. I want him alive and back to us."

"This is impossible."

"I hurt Robin so much, but he still forgave me." She shut her eyes tightly. "My lies to Robin and to you caused too much pain to both of you."

Guy looked thoughtful. "I cannot say that you didn't cause us pain. At least you finally understood that you shouldn't play with a man's heart today and break it tomorrow."

"Excellent! Bravo, Guy!" Marian exclaimed. "I am criticized by the man who forced me to pretend in Nottingham because I had to play my little game in order to help the people and protect the outlaws who fed the villagers and saved their lives." Her lips curved in an unpleasant smile. "At least have some courtesy and don't criticize me when you should think of your own atonement. Now you are on the right side, but you wronged many people. Your road to redemption will be long and serpent."

"You don't need to remind me that I haven't redeemed myself yet," Guy snapped angrily. A faint smile lurking in his eyes, he asked, "But I am not totally beyond redemption, am I?"

"No, you are not." Marian smiled sadly. "I am sorry, I shouldn't have said that. It is a difficult period for me. I am not sure that I will feel better soon. I need… much time… Too many things happened."

Guy sighed resignedly. "I know." He took in her appearance, and his gaze stopped on the sapphire brooch. "A new brooch? I haven't seen it on you here, in Acre."

Her face tight with embarrassment and frustration, Marian lowered her eyes, looking down, at the wooden deck. "Robin gave me this brooch when he had courted me before he joined the Crusade." She paused and swallowed hard. "Robin took it to Acre – he apparently kept it as a token of memory. Lady Melisende gave it to me today. Before his death, Robin asked the king to give it to me."

Guy of Gisborne took a sharp, angry breath; he looked away at the disappearing outlines of the walls of Acre. He was silent for a long time, his heart tearing apart in pain, bitterness filling his heart. Were her feelings for Robin so lingering that even after his death he had such a strong hold over Marian? Yet, Guy noticed that the pain in his heart was not as strong as it would have been before if he had learnt that she had worn one of Robin's old gifts, and that feeling puzzled him.

Applying all his self-control, Guy turned his gaze at Marian. "What I find so disheartening about you, Marian, is the speed with which you contrive to confuse yourself. There is such a mess in your head. You don't know what you want and feel. Maybe over time you will manage to understand yourself."

She swallowed heavily. "You are right. I am really lost."

"You don't want me to stay with you… in your cabin tonight, do you?" He knew the answer in advance, but he wanted to hear the words from her mouth.

"Guy, I am sorry."

Marian shuddered in mingled disgust and fear from the mere though to share a bed with any man. After Robin's death, she didn't want to have any intimate contacts with a man, even with Guy, though he was her husband. For whatever reason, she couldn't ever bear a thought that a man would touch her in any way, save a kiss on her cheek and a slight clap on her back or her hand.

Guy nodded. "I understand."

Guy looked at Marian for a long, heart-stopping moment, and she looked straight at him. He saw so much confusion in her eyes and even greater pain. He wanted to scoop her into his arms, but something told him that she wouldn't be happy to be physically close to him at that moment. Marian was strong and proud, and she preferred to suffer in loneliness.

Marian patted Guy's shoulder and nodded. "You are too kind to me, Guy. I don't deserve it." She felt remorse for what she had done to Guy and Robin, for the fatal love triangle she had created. She sighed heavily. "I was _confused_. I was _torn between Robin and you, Guy_." She tossed her head in despair. "Even if it sounds strange, it doesn't depend on me. It just happens."

He met her gaze. "You once told me that we don't choose those whom we love."

Tears stung her eyes. "Now I want you to know the rest of the truth."

"What?" He looked worried.

Marian dragged a deep breath, trying to gather her strengths before making a confession. "Guy, I told you that I regretted that Robin and I were together once."

His eyes burned with urgency as he met her gaze. "You didn't regret it."

Marian trembled all over. Small tears welled in her eyes. All she could think of was that she had trapped herself in the fatal love triangle. She had allowed herself to be torn between the two men, and in the end she had become confused even more.

"Yes and no," she gave an ambiguous answer. "I allowed Robin to be with me in the woods on the day of my father's death." She blinked back tears. "I regretted that I was with Robin because I knew that it wasn't proper to do that. We were not married." She swallowed hard. "But I also didn't regret what we did, and it wasn't the moment of weakness because I wanted it to happen."

He nodded, accepting her words for granted. "I knew about that."

"You did?"

"I am not a fool, Marian."

"Guy," Marian called. She smoothed her hands over the front of her skirts. "The moments of tenderness and passion we shared were real. I genuinely wanted to be with you."

"Marian," he whispered gently.

Marian stared at him with pleading eyes. "And now I feel trapped. I need time."

Guy didn't move, the time marked only by the loud thumping of his heart against his ribcage. There was pain in his heart, almost a sensation of a physical loss, as if he felt her warm hands unclasp him, but somehow he didn't feel completely devastated and emotionally dead. He was angry, with himself and with Marian, and even with Robin, but he wasn't lethally angry. Heartbroken rage surged up inside his chest like a tidal wave finally ready to break, and his heart was aching and bleeding, but it wasn't broken into many small pieces, to his utter amazement.

He used to think that he would die and would lose his last chance for redemption if Marian had deprived him of her love, like all the other people had done. Yet, he accepted that it was not Marian, but he himself who had to make a final step to the light from the darkness to save his soul from eternal damnation. Guy knew that _he had three saviors – Marian, Robin Hood, and himself_, and each of them played a different and vital role in the salvation of his lost soul. Now he knew that no love would wash away his sins, like he had thought before.

He wasn't happy with the revelation, but he understood Marian's confusion. He understood that her old feelings for Robin had somehow revived and heightened in the light of the recent tragedy. After all, tragedies always brought back sentimental moments of the past. He himself was shocked with the latest events. They both were confused and trapped between the past and the present. They couldn't get the newly revealed facts out of their lives, and they were poisoned by their confusion. Maybe they indeed needed some time to cool of their heads and grieve.

"You have it," he conceded.

Marian flushed. "Thank you."

"Don't say goodbye, Marian. There is no need. I shall not leave your side as long as we both want to be together, as long as you need me and I need you." He looked into her eyes, then at her nose and her lips. "And don't ask me for forgiveness either. It is not what you should do."

She looked terrified. "You will never forgive me, won't you?"

Guy smiled oddly. "Both of us wronged each other. Both of us wronged Robin, and he wronged each of us. It is strange, but each of us wronged the two others. That's what I mean."

"Guy, I am so sorry." Marian felt a lump forming in her throat; she swallowed hard.

"Don't be sorry, Marian. I deserved everything bad God may send on my way."

"You are not right, Guy."

"No, I am right."

He tugged her at her sleeve. "It is becoming windy. Let me accompany you into your cabin."

Guy offered her his hand. Marian accepted it and nodded back in agreement. They cast a last glance at the shore and walked away.

Guy didn't know whether Marian still loved Robin or mourned the loss of the hero. He was confused with his own feelings too. Like Marian needed time to grieve, Guy needed time to think about his life. Marian and Guy both needed time to contemplate their lives, analyze their feelings, and move on.

§§§

In a moment, they heard the sound of English voices and the tramp of booted feet upon the deck. They swung around and saw Much, Allan, and Little John who appeared on the deck, their eyes blinded by the bright sunlight. They were not an encouraging sight as there was an air of displeasure and annoyance about them; only Allan looked quite friendly but he was still tense.

"How are you doing this morning?" Marian asked them.

"Yeah, very well, thank you. I slept very well today. And I am so happy that the king pardoned me and rewarded me," Allan said jovially, a small smile lighting his face.

"The lands and pardon were the reason why you travelled here, Allan?" Little John asked, his face darkening and anger glittering in his eyes.

A smile momentary gone from his face, Allan stared at the blue sea that foamed along the side of the ship. "I came to Acre to save the king, and we did that. I wanted to make up for what I did wrong."

John glanced at Allan, and his eyes flashed angrily. "We saved the king, but at what price?"

"Robin's death," Much whispered.

Allan cringed. "Look, mates, I am also in mourning for Robin. I liked him a lot." He looked guilty. "I am very grateful to Robin. He saved my life several times, and he helped me to receive the king's pardon."

"After you betrayed us," Little John threw at Allan. "You are a traitor!"

Guy rolled his eyes at Little John's outburst, anticipating accusatory comments towards him.

"I am sorry," Allan said sincerely. "I haven't forgiven myself yet."

Marian smiled heartily at Allan. "Allan, you are a good man. Nothing will ever change that."

Allan smiled back at her. "Thank you, Maz."

"I can forget about Allan's betrayal, for he came here and helped us save the king," Much said, glaring at Guy, his eyes dark as storm clouds, his face hateful, his teeth clenched, his lips tightening in a single line. "There is the worst traitor on this ship! I can barely stand his presence here."

Marian shook her head. "Much, I thought that it is over."

"Never," Much flung back, with angry exasperation, giving Guy a murderous glare. "You, Gisborne, dare stand here, after your friend Vaisey killed Robin?"

"The sheriff is not my friend," Guy amended.

"Your master," Much snapped despicably.

"My former master," Guy corrected. "I have pledged my loyalty to the king."

"Whom you, Gisborne, tried to kill twice," Little John gave a venomous remark.

"Bloody hell, are you gonna stop or not?" Allan intervened.

"While nothing will return Robin back to life, Gisborne must have been executed. It would have been fair to see him die for all his crimes," John snapped.

"And why should we stop?" Much continued his angry outburst. "Gisborne is alive and pardoned. Robin is dead. Gisborne should be happy. After all, he has been trying to kill Robin for almost three years, and his friend the sheriff finally did that."

"Vaisey is not my friend," Guy reiterated, struggling to keep his temper at bay.

"There is no difference between you and the sheriff," John said.

"If my presence irritates you, I apologize. It is not my fault that the king wanted us to be on the same ship." Guy looked between Much and Little John, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

Hatred glittering in his blue eyes, Much exploded. "Bah! Gisborne apologizes! Your apologies are lies! You will always be evil! You will change only when pigs learn to fly! Every time when I look at you, Gisborne, I am reminded of Robin's death and of the sheriff." His voice shook with emotion. "Every time when I see you I want you dead and Robin alive."

"Much! This is enough!" Marian shot the former manservant an annoying look.

"Much, take a hold of your emotions," Roger de Tosny said calmly as he climbed down the wooden stairs from a higher deck. "Care to explain what is going on? Are you again bickering?"

"You came in time, Roger," Guy said, with the heartfelt joy of a man rediscovering a long lost friend.

De Tosny eyed the group of people. "I see."

Little John looked at de Tosny up and down. "No quarreling. It is just Gisborne!"

"What happened again?" de Tosny inquired.

"Like Much, I can barely tolerate the sight of this man. His black leather reeks with blood of innocent people whom he killed," John declared. "I cannot forget how many people in Nottingham suffered from the actions of this man. He killed hundreds of innocents in cold blood; he chopped off their fingers and hands; he liked beating them to death; they starved to death at his fault." His expression changed into utter loathing. "He killed even children! He can kill anyone!"

"I would advise to stop," de Tosny said calmly, disgruntled.

"I never killed children," Guy nearly shouted.

"On the contrary, Guy did everything possible to spare children's lives," Marian added.

Little John made a face. "I will never forgive Gisborne. Not after what he did to Alice and my son."

Guy seethed with anger, struggling to control himself and not to punch the big man for the groundless accusations. He vaguely remembered Alice from the times when the sheriff had planned for all the prisoners who didn't pay taxes to torment them in his "Festival of Pain", in which Little Little John had acted as a star. Guy had never caused any harm John's wife and his son.

Before Guy was even aware of what was happening, Much was already next to him. With all the force he was capable to gather, the former manservant struck Guy, his hand catching him cruelly on the side of the face, the force of the blow almost sending Guy to the floor.

"This is for Robin!" Much snarled. "And for all other people who suffered because of you!"

Dazed by the unexpectedness of his actions, as well as the power behind the blow, Guy stared up at Much's rage-contorted face. "You are a brave man, Lord Much." The last words were said with derision.

With the blazing eyes full of hatred, Much looked so much like an outraged warrior whose bloodlust was unlimited at that moment. "Gisborne, burn in hell, bloody bastard!" he moved closer to Guy. "You belong to the gallows where all murderers must die a bloody death!"

"Guy! Much!" Marian screamed, stepping forward between Guy and Much.

"Mates, stop!" Allan looked deeply troubled.

"Immediately stop!" de Tosny commanded.

Little John was silent, looking at his staff, thinking that he should have punched Guy instead of Much.

"Everyone, stay out of this!" Guy pushed Marian away. The reference to him as a bastard and a murderer enraged him. His eyes piercing Much's face, he spoke in a hissing tone. "Lord Much, you are a brave man to punch me when I don't expect it! And, certainly, you have good manners for a lord."

Much scoffed. "The pot calling the kettle black! You stabbed Robin from the back in the Saracen raid!"

Guy snarled something virulent under his breath, and, spinning on his heels, launched himself at the manservant, his considerable strength catching Much unprepared. His teeth bared, with a shriek of insane fury, Guy brought his fist down against Much's face with a mighty strength. Much groaned and tumbled to the deck, but he swiftly jumped to his feet and rushed forward, attacking Guy and cursing in the most unintelligible words he had ever heard.

"Your place is on the chopping block!" Much shouted.

"And yours in the servants' quarters!" Guy fired back.

Much spiritedly struck Guy across his cheek and spat into his face, then struck him again with both fists, using every ounce of strength he possessed. Cursing aloud, Guy struck his opponent back in his face and then in the stomach, Guy's shoes creating painful bruises on Much's skin. They traded heavy blows, their fists hitting each another with surprising force on the faces, chests, shoulders, and stomachs. In less than a minute, Much was on the floor, with Guy sitting atop of him, his breathing radiating fury. Guy's clenched fists and struck Much again into his face, and a sob of fury broke from Much who tried to push the heavier man away.

"Stop now! Stop!" de Tosny burst out, his eyes full of both anger and compassion.

"Stop! Please!" Marian pleaded. "You cannot kill one another!"

"Word of advice: we are on the same ship for many weeks, so let's be civil," Allan said irritably.

"Maybe a good advice," Little John agreed in the end.

The decision was taken from Guy and Much: they were instantly surrounded and separated by their companions. Much and Guy struggled forward to continue beating one other, Much throwing insults at Guy and the other man only cursing. Finally, Little John knocked angry Much out with his staff and dragged him away to their cabin, leaving Roger de Tosny, Marian, Guy, and Allan on the deck.

Everyone was relieved that Much was dragged from the deck. Much's behavior was on the verge of madness in the past days. Much was not himself, not the kind and compassionate man of old times. Instead, he often lashed out at everyone, and they got accustomed to Much's radical mood swings. But Much's hateful attitude towards Guy troubled everyone. The former manservant was always sarcastic and accused Guy of numerous incredible things he had never committed. Much was full of anger and hatred; he hated and loathed everyone who had ever hurt Robin.

"Much is getting more and more annoying. At times, I fear that he is slowly losing his mind," Marian voiced her observation. "Robin's death had a dreadful impact on him."

Allan sighed. "It is not a justification for his actions."

"These clashes are terrible. They must be stopped," Roger de Tosny said decisively.

"What can we do?" Guy shrugged. "I am not attacking him."

"Guy, we are not accusing you," Roger soothed. "I will talk to Much today."

"I doubt you will succeed, Roger," Guy said with a smirk. "The man hates me and wishes my death."

Roger shook his head. "I am worried about Much. He doesn't care about his future, himself, and the world. It seems that Much wants to die together with Robin."

"Well, he was so loyal to him," Guy agreed with Roger's estimate.

"Much not only loved Robin – he worshipped Robin," Marian supplemented.

"But these fights are annoying. They are worse than fights between children," Allan commented dryly.

De Tosny smiled, his front teeth gleaming in the sunlight. "I knew that Guy would defeat Much. I would bet all my lands and money on Guy in a hand-to-hand combat, except for a combat with Little John and Legrand, may his soul rest in peace."

With a shout of laughter, Guy moved forward until he reached the snout of the ship. "We once had a hand-to-hand combat with Robin Hood in the forest. I wouldn't say that I won; we ended in a draw."

There was a short pause between them as they stood there together, suddenly again aware of the long-carried, painful grief for Robin's death.

"Yeah, Robin was agile and clever. He could do many things," Allan agreed.

"Robin was unique," Marian summed up; there were notes of anguish in her voice.

"No doubt." Guy gazed away. The sea breeze ruffled his thick black hair.

There was a companionable silence between all of them as they stared at the horizon where the line between the blue sky and the blue water almost disappeared. The gentle swells of the sea rhythmically rocked the ship. Then Marian murmured an apology, and, with the icy facade on her face and after one last glance at Guy, she swung around and made her way below deck to the cabin.

"Women are like sands. Dangerous," de Tosny said critically.

Allan sent Guy a long, considering look. "Guy, troubles?"

"Robin's death," Guy murmured.

Allan shrugged his shoulders helplessly. "I am sorry, mate."

"Don't be sorry, Allan. Nothing to be sorry for," Guy replied somewhat skeptically. "I expected that Marian's reaction would be similar to the one we observe now."

Allan gave Guy a bewildered glance. "You expected that, didn't you?"

Guy nodded, his gaze turning languid. "Yes, I did. I expected that she would be living in her own world with the memories of Robin Hood since the moment when Robin had died in Imuiz."

"Guy, everything will be alright," de Tosny said soothingly. "You will sort everything out."

Guy suddenly was overtaken by a spontaneous desire to laugh. It was like a bubble rising inside him, growing larger and larger, and then he finally threw his head back and laughed. It was a laugh disrobing a great personal tragedy linked to the love triangle of Robin, Guy, and Marian.

"Guy, are you alright?" Allan inquired with concern when Guy relapsed into silence.

"I am fine," Guy replied. "It is just that now I am confused about everything."

De Tosny looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"Roger, my wife was twice betrothed to Robin of Locksley," Guy notified with nearly a comical smile on his face. "Do you have other questions?"

De Tosny shook his head, his expression sorrowful. "No, I don't. Sorry, Guy."

Guy nearly laughed at his friend's reply, it being so serious in its delivery. "I am not a woman, but I begin to think that it is impossible to get over Robin of Locksley." He let out a strange smile, a mixture of anguish and pain. "There was something really exceptional in Robin. He was an unusual man, very original in every way he lived and in his appearance, and everything original is unforgettable."

"Guy, you are progressing," Allan said with respect, clapping his hands together. "I have never thought that I would ever hear these words from you."

Guy gave Allan a condescending glance. "Spare me your sarcasm, Allan."

"No sarcasm, mate," Allan contradicted. "Guy, I am just pleased that you are able to recognize the strengths of your former enemies. I told you that your problem was your inability to see your own faults and blame others." He smiled. "I mean that you are changing, Guy, and it is really great."

Guy sighed. "I hated Robin for standing between Marian and me for so long, but now I don't hate him." He smiled bitterly, looking at the horizon. "I hate myself instead."

"You shouldn't hate yourself, Guy," de Tosny said quietly. "It will destroy the rest of your peace you have gotten when you finally have stopped hating Robin."

"I have never been at peace. Maybe death will give me peace in the end," Guy mused despondently. "It is only my fault that I destroyed my own life." He clenched his fists, angry with himself. "I understand why Marian remembers Robin. There are so many good things to remember about him." He laughed bitterly. "And what can everyone remember about me? Only blood, death, and murders."

"Look, mate, we all have time to correct our mistakes," Allan tried to lift Guy's spirits. "You are not going to die today or tomorrow, Guy. You have time to change your life."

De Tosny nodded. "Allan is right, Guy. You have time to atone for your sins."

Guy returned the smile, though he could feel the tightness in his jaw. "I will try to change my life, but I am not entirely sure that I will be able to do that. Too many bad things happened in my life." His face contorted in pain. "And I did too many bad things."

"Guy," de Tosny called with gentle, but firm resolve, "you have to forget the worst part of your past."

"I don't know if I can, Roger," Guy answered.

"You must do that for yourself, Guy," de Tosny insisted. "You can do that."

"Of course." Guy gave an exasperated sigh. "I will try to move on after I am done with the past." He narrowed his eyes, thinking that he would probably be able to lead a normal life after killing the sheriff. His hatred for Vaisey rose to a crescendo, but his expression was calm, disguising his real feelings.

"Then do that," Allan's face brightened. "I believe in you, Guy."

"I have always believed in you, Guy of Gisborne," de Tosny said sincerely, hoping to support the man whom he deeply liked for many years. "You were just misguided."

Guy shook his head. "I don't know."

"Are you truly alright, Guy?" Roger was not confident.

Guy smirked. "As much as I can be."

"Hey, Guy, if you need an ear, you can always find a companion in me," Allan offered.

De Tosny put a comforting hand on Guy's shoulder. "Guy, you know that you can count on me. I will always listen to you and help you."

"Thank you," Guy responded embarrassingly. Then he hastily walked away.

The two other men could only stare after Guy, wondering what was happening between Marian and Guy, but willing to let the matter rest for the moment.

§§§

In the next several days, the ship made stops in Limassol and Famagusta, and then headed to Palermo. The weather was warm and unchanging for many days, ideal for a trip, though at times some storm clouds swirled in the sky, but there was even no hint on the storm. The journey was smooth and uneventful as everything had been properly prepared in advance and the safe passage had been secured for them by the king. The vessel was small and old, but all the cabins were furnished quite well and were clean.

Guy spent the rest of the day alone, on the deck or in the small cabin he shared with Allan and Roger de Tosny. After he had spent more than an hour breathing in fresh sea air, he retired to the cabin for the night. Guy found Allan sitting lazily on the bed, looking up at the ceiling and whistling something under his nose. Roger was sitting at the only table in the cabin, which was filled with scrolls and parchments tied up with ribbons; Guy's friend was working with the king's letters.

"Good evening, Guy," Roger de Tosny greeted, not raising his eyes from the parchment.

"Good evening," Guy's voice resonated.

"What are you doing, Roger?" Allan lifted himself in a sitting position.

"I am looking through the parchments with King Richard's instructions he gave me in Acre," Roger informed, raising his eyes and briefly glancing at both Guy and Allan. Then he lowered his head again, his eyes scanning the king's beautiful handwriting. "I am also going to write to my sister. I want to warn her that I am on my way to Conches, my largest estate. I want to finally meet my children."

"You are married?" Guy took a seat in a chair.

"I am a widower with children." Roger made a note with an eagle-feathered quill and raised his head. "I am a bad husband. My wife died when I was in the Holy Land." He let out a sigh of regret. "I haven't seen my wife for more than seven years since I had departed to the Holy Land."

"Did you marry someone before departing to the Holy Land?" Guy asked incredulously.

"Yes, I did. I married a daughter of a Norman baron three years before my departure," Roger replied neutrally. "I didn't want to marry at all and I didn't love my wife, but I knew that I needed to sire an heir." He rubbed his cheek. "Well, you know how it happens."

Guy gave a nod. "I understand."

Roger's eyes turned languid. "I want to meet my two children whom I haven't seen for so long. My eldest son is nine years old, and my daughter was born when I was in Acre."

"Oh, blimey!" Allan exclaimed. "Of course, you want to see your children."

Roger smiled sadly, his eyes still in the parchment. "They won't recognize a father in me." He shrugged. "Well, at least I have someone who shares my blood."

Guy sighed tiredly. "I was in Essex, working as Vaisey's right-hand man, when I heard the rumors that you had become close with Prince Richard."

Roger stared at Guy, a light smile hovering over his lips. "I assumed that Prince Richard would inherit the throne as the eldest surviving legitimate son of King Henry. Moreover, Richard himself knighted me many years ago, and we became friends; I was trained by Lord Walter Sheridan, like many other Richard's knights," he said diplomatically. "And I have always liked Richard much more than John."

"Sheridan is a traitor," Allan pointed out.

Roger gave a nod. "We know that he betrayed King Richard."

"Roger, I was really astonished when I heard that you had gone to the Crusade," Guy admitted. "Why did you need to leave for the Holy Land?"

"I am a man of duty," Roger stated proudly. "I will say nothing more on the matter."

"And how was the Crusade?" Allan's voice sounded almost humbly.

Roger glanced away. "The First Crusade ended up with the capture of Jerusalem in 1099. This Crusade was a combination of zealotry, pent-up frustration, and greed. The Crusaders massacred almost every man, woman, and child in Jerusalem, depopulating it for generations to come and leaving a legacy of hatred which is still being felt today." He shrugged. "All the Crusades are similar – every Crusade is bloodbath. On the Third Crusade, we killed, massacred, and stood in rivers of blood. This time we didn't capture Jerusalem, but at least we captured Acre, Arsuf, and Jaffa."

"Roger, do you regret that you went to the Holy Land?" Guy was curious, though he knew that Roger didn't want to talk about the Crusade.

Roger looked no happier than Guy did. "Yes and no," he replied, twisting his fingers. "I would have considered myself a coward if I hadn't gone to the Holy Land and hadn't protected my king. I am proud of being King Richard's loyal knight and trusted man." He sighed deeply. "And yet, I am glad that it is over. I thank God every day that I am alive and that I don't have to bathe in blood again."

Allan had another question. "You are done with the war, Roger?"

Roger shook his head. "No, I am not. I am going to Conches to spend some time with my children, but I will have to leave very soon. Then I am going to join the Earl of Leicester who was appointed the commander of the king's own forces in Normandy."

"The war with King Philippe?" Guy stood up and went to the bed. He sat comfortably on the edge, his gaze fixing at Roger.

"Yes," Roger confirmed.

Allan looked amazed. "Roger, aren't you tired of fighting?"

Roger folded his hands over his chest. "I am the king's man through and through."

"Like Robin," Allan remarked, his expression sad.

"Yes, like Robin." Roger blessed himself with a cross. "May Robin rest in peace."

"May Robin rest in peace," Guy and Allan echoed.

Roger chuckled. "Maybe if I had been married to a lady whom I have often remembered throughout so many years, I would have stopped fighting and spend the rest of my life at home, sitting near the hearth, helping my wife run my estates, and raising my children." He laughed. "But it is not my case."

"And whom did you remember?" Guy questioned.

De Tosny smiled. "Your sister, Guy."

Allan's eyes widened. "Lady Isabella?"

"Allan, I have known Guy for many years. I met him before he started serving Vaisey," Roger said with a large smile. "Life is a strange thing, right?"

"Very strange," Guy agreed.

"I cannot say that I am pleased with what I learnt about Isabella," Roger continued sadly. "I was once besotted with a pretty young girl with large, steel blue eyes and long, dark hair." His face had a dreamy expression. "I liked Isabella from the first meeting. She possessed a quiet disposition and loved sewing and embroidery, but I believed the creativity and dedication exhibited in her sewing were indicative of a rich internal life that didn't need gossip and socializing to sustain it."

"Isabella was reserved and sullen after the fire," Guy remarked. "She changed over time. She was married to Squire Thornton."

Roger de Tosny gave an ironic smile. "I have heard about her marriage, but not very positive things." He laughed. "If you, Guy, hadn't left me in Rouen, I would have married Isabella in a year or two when she became of a marriageable age."

Guy flickered a sideways glance at Roger. "You are kidding me."

Roger smiled and cast his eyes to the ceiling. "It is not a joke."

Gisborne strove to compose himself, but a tart feeling of regret overwhelmed his heart. "It would be better if you married her and I didn't leave you."

Roger looked confused. "Guy, I still don't know why you haven't stayed at my castle even when I was wounded and was recovering. I wasn't going to throw you and Isabella into the streets."

"I had… my important reasons," Guy stammered. He couldn't bring himself to tell Roger that Vaisey had purchased his debts and had cornered him.

"As you wish, Guy." Roger didn't miss anxious painful note in his friend's voice.

"Isabella's wedding to Squire Thornton happened in Angers. Thornton is Vaisey's distant cousin," Guy confessed, his expression bitter. "Only Vaisey and I attended the wedding."

De Tosny shook his head, his face sorrowful. "I have heard so many bad things about Squire Thornton. If he is Vaisey's relative, then it explains the extraordinary cruelty people are talking about when the name of this man comes to their minds."

Guy hung his head in shame. He was overcome with remorse, and if Isabella had been with him in the same room, he would have gladly spent the rest of the night begging for forgiveness.

Allan felt that they needed to change the topic. "Well, Lady Isabella is Prince John's mistress. She must be enjoying the court."

De Tosny smirked. "Isabella is the mysterious Isabella who was widely spoken about at the court and whom the prince was keeping in secret from the public." He growled. "I presume they needed secrecy because Isabella became one of the Black Knights."

"Oh, I didn't know about that," Guy replied, wondering what else he didn't know about her sister.

"Prince John did everything to keep the snake only for himself," Allan summed up.

"Something along those lines," Roger agreed. "I was shocked that Isabella had participated in Prince John's treacherous schemes – in assassination attempt on King Richard's life." He shook his head in disbelief. "I know what happened in the courtyard. I was utterly shocked."

Guy's heart was thundering in his chest. "What will King Richard do to my sister?"

"I don't know, Guy," Roger's voice coursed through the hot air. "King Richard is very angry. He craves to have vengeance for all these regicide attempts that have become as annoying as a thorn in the backside, I am sorry to say that. He swore to execute everyone who signed the Pact of Nottingham."

"Lady Isabella didn't sign it," Allan pointed out.

"Isabella did much more," Roger snapped distastefully. "She contributed a great deal to the tragedy in the courtyard. If she hadn't conspired with the sheriff, Robin would have been alive now."

"I know." Guy closed his eyes with a sigh for a moment.

Roger took a parchment in his hands and stroked the paper with his fingers. "The king can be merciful, but I don't know what he can do to those who contributed to Robin's death."

The blood drained from Guy's face, and a tense silence settled in the room. "I understand," Guy said after a small pause.

"Isabella's husband, Squire Thornton, is also one of the Black Knights," Roger de Tosny broke in. "I have heard that now Isabella lives in permanent separation from Squire Thornton."

"Your spies?" Guy arched a brow. "Lady Amicia?"

De Tosny looked shocked. "Goddamn you, Gisborne!" he fumed. "How do you… know?"

"Don't hurry to damn me, Roger," Guy shot back. "You have nothing to fear."

"Who else knows? Tell me the truth, Guy!" Roger demanded harshly. "Her life will be in grave danger if Prince John learns the truth."

Allan was silent, listening but understanding nothing.

"Nobody knows. I told nobody," Guy assured. "I have disclosed Amicia's true allegiances once in a dark corridor at the Tower of London. We had a conversation, and I promised to keep her secret."

Roger was utterly puzzled. "You know Amicia?"

"I met her a long time ago in Normandy. We are old friends," Guy elaborated, smiling.

Roger comprehended the meaning of his friend's words. "Just be careful, Guy. Never look at Amicia as a woman. She is not yours."

Guy frowned, confused. "Amicia told me that she doesn't want to be Prince John's mistress."

"Just remember that you should forget about even looking at her as a bedmate," Roger advised.

Guy shook his head. "Why are you so serious?"

Roger knew that Amicia had been King Richard's mistress before they left for the Crusade and Richard was very fond of her. He suspected that the king's relations with his former lover would start all over again after their return to the Angevin Empire; Richard had always been very selective among ladies and even more discreet, striving to hide from the court and everyone the names of his lovers.

"Just remember what I told you, Guy," Roger said dismissively.

"Naturally." Guy was puzzled, but asked no more questions.

Roger smiled uneasily. "Thank you."

Guy was uncertain how to approach Roger and ask him the question what he wanted to ask throughout so many weeks. He looked at Roger, attentively. "Do you hate me, Roger?"

"No, I don't." Roger shook his head in denial. "I have a thousand reasons to hate and loathe you, Guy. The soundest of them are that you are the former Black Knight and a traitor to King Richard," he declared. "But I cannot hate and loathe you. I remember you when I met you in Normandy many years ago. You and your sister were starving, struggling to survive and happy to find any work for a penny, and I really wanted to help you when I hired you as my squire."

Guy looked heartily. "I will never forget what you did for me, Roger. You were one of the very few people who were kind to my sister and me. I owe you an enormous debt of gratitude."

"You owe me nothing," Roger objected, a smile on his face. "Guy, when I met you, I immediately understood that your heart, even despite your youth, was twisted with hatred."

"Really?" The sheriff's former henchman looked bewildered.

Allan's eyes darted between Guy and Roger. He knew that there had been much bad blood between Guy and Robin, and he was interested in details.

"Yes," Roger confirmed. "Only later I learnt about your tragic life story, and I realized why you hated Robin so fiercely. And I saw that you were a good and well-behaved young lad, who didn't deserve to live in misery. I admired you for being strong enough to take care of your sister and overcome many hardships which God sent on your path." A wistful look crossed his face. "I was deeply saddened when you left my service on the back of my injury and when you were employed by Lord Peter Vaisey."

"Roger, I was saddened too," Guy flashed back, a wistful sparkle in his eyes. "I was worried about your health after your injury on a tournament, and I was relieved to learn that you recovered."

De Tosny measured Guy with somewhat a nostalgic look. "Despite everything you have done, Guy, I know that you are a good man. You loyalty was misplaced, and you lost your way in this life. Don't waste your chance to live a better life now when the king was lenient towards you."

Guy smiled heartily. "Roger, I can never thank you enough for everything you did for me since our meeting in Normandy so many years ago." His eyes were full of regret and gratitude as his gaze locked with Roger's. "You cannot imagine how important for me it is to hear these words now."

"Try to leave the past behind, Guy. You have to move on," de Tosny recommended. "I was once your friend and I want to be your friend again."

"I am also here for you, Guy," Allan added. "I am your friend."

Guy flashed a smile. "Thank you. I treasure our friendship."

§§§

The September morning arose in the unclouded splendor, and the sun was much above the horizon. The red rays of the sun shot a brilliant light on the blazing sand, almost melting the yellow surface and discoloring it into pale yellow color in the brightness of the sunlight. The peace reigned over the Holy Land after Sultan Saladin and King Richard had signed peace treaty and the war had been finished.

By the small slopes near the shore of the Dead Sea, the Bedouins pitched their camp so that they could at least cool off and get some sleep before continuing their way towards Jerusalem in a couple of days. The landscape near the Dead Sea was just as inhospitably arid as it was rocky, and it made it dangerous to ride too fast in the desert. In the summer time, the chronic scarcity of water forced the Bedouins to be engaged into even more nomadic herding and be constantly on the move.

The Bedouins' camp was located near one of the major caravan paths in Outremer. Caravans of haughty camels padded past the tired dark-skinned men and women, bearing the wealth from Acre and Tripoli to Jerusalem, Damask and Mecca, carrying spices, aromatic oils, and gemstones. As long as the Bedouins had their camps in the desert, traders considered themselves protected from all enemies among the Saracens and robbers in return for a small fee they paid to the poor campers.

The whole village was alive with the tramp of people, cooking, unpacking, and doing their usual daily deals. Everyone rejoiced that a large caravan stopped near the camp at dawn and requested protection from robbers on their way to their final destination; loud, merry laughter and coarse Arabic words rang throughout the cloister of the desert. They were lucky that the summer was a hectic period when trade over the Dead Sea was always very active because of minimal possible danger to the ships from storms and to the caravans from the sandstorms in the desert.

"Ali, it is good that the caravan has stopped," Fatima addressed her husband.

The middle-aged Bedouin turned his gaze at his wife. "It is very good, wife," he replied jovially. "They will pay us some money. We will be able to buy more food for us."

"I thought about the two men whom we found in the desert," Fatima said. "Maybe the caravan will take them to Jerusalem, for we have been moving them with us for so long." A sorrowful look crossed her dark wrinkled face. "We don't have money to hire an expert healer for the man who was so grievously wounded. He is slowly dying in fever, and we have nothing to save him."

Ali scowled. "These men are Crusaders."

"Only one of them seems to be a Crusader – the wounded man," Fatima agreed.

In the past two weeks, Fatima was patiently taking care of the two young Christians who had been accidentally discovered in the lonely cave in the desert after the heavy sandstorm that had transported dust, had polluted the air, and had killed many people from Acre to Jerusalem. One of the Christians obviously was a Crusader, and he had been almost fatally wounded in his stomach; it was unclear how he had managed to stay alive with his grave injury after all the adventures in the desert. Another man, not a Crusader, was unconscious and was found out in the sand in a tight embrace with the first man.

"We should have already killed them. They are our enemies, like all the Christians who came to our lands," Ali hissed with the naked hatred in his eyes.

"You are despicable!"

"I am fair to the children of their barbarian God – Christ."

"Melek-Ric achieved peace with Saladin! They are not our enemies any longer!" Fatima cried out, her face angry. "And they are human beings. One of them has a grave wound! We couldn't let him die!"

"Fatima, it is your willingness to save every wounded that costs us the last piece of bread."

"The caravan can take these men to Jerusalem. They will take better care of them. The wounded Crusader urgently needs a healer; he has been suffering long from severe infection and high fever; he is almost on his deathbed."

Ali laughed. "I don't care about their eventual fate. The Christians must be removed from Earth because only Allah is a true God while they worship a fake God. If I myself have to kill these men in order to get rid of two more Christians, I will willingly do that."

Fatima looked shocked. "Don't even think about that! I will never let you murder them!"

Ali inclined his head in his wife's direction, his eyes narrowing with interest. "Yes, it will be easy for these damned Christians to kill them. I don't want them to be merely discomforted. I can arrange something worse for them." He laughed spitefully. "I will sell them into slavery and get money for them."

"Are you serious, Ali?"

Ali shook his head. "I hate Christians with all my heart."

Fatima glanced at her husband in shock; then she wandered to their tent. She came inside and looked at the two men who lay on the straw mattresses, covered by the two linen blankets up to their chests. Even if they all went to bed fully dressed, the nights could sometimes get so cold that it was impossible to sleep without blankets. The wild fever ravaged the body of the wounded man, and Fatima often removed the blanket from his body that was as hot as the sand melting under the sun; she also wept sweat from his face and chest.

The Saracen woman approached the straw mattress where the injured handsome Crusader lay; she crouched at his level and touched his forehead. She knew that he needed help if he still had a chance to survive. Having some experience in healing, she could easily see that the wound in his lower abdomen was a mortal one; she was astonished that he was still alive. After the Crusader had been found in the desert, Fatima cleaned and bandaged the wound, but it was clear that the man's survival was doubtful because of huge blood loss, spreading infection, and grave nature of his injury. She tended to the wound every day, thinking that the man would die anyway, but he was still barely clinging to life.

Suddenly, she heard a quiet groan. She came to the mattress of the second man, her eyes widening in amazement. The young man finally regained his consciousness, and his pale blue eyes were open and surveying her with curiosity. The man was obviously stunned with his surroundings.

"Where am I?" The young man spoke in excellent Arabic, but with apparent English accent.

"Near the Dead Sea, in the Bedouins' camp," Fatima responded cautiously. She was astounded that he spoke Arabic so fluently and so well. "Who are you?"

"My name is Archer," the man introduced himself, coughing in his fist.

"Fatima," she said quietly.

"How did we get here?" His eyes darted between Fatima and Robin.

"We found you in the cave. It seems that you were lost in the desert."

"Ah, a sandstorm."

"Yes."

Archer looked at Robin, and his heart constricted in his chest. "This dead man is my half-brother. His name is Robin. But why is he here? Haven't you already buried him?"

Fatima was confused. "Why should we bury him?"

"Because he is dead," Archer said, lowering his gaze, as if in shame.

"Dead?"

"I couldn't save Robin because I wasn't in the courtyard when he was stabbed."

"He is not dead yet, but I think he will end up dead in any case."

Archer's eyes grew wider. He stared at Robin's prone form, shaking his head in disbelief. "But he died! It was a mortal wound! Everyone said that he had died!"

"I don't know what happened to this poor man, but I am telling you that he is still alive," Fatima blurted out. "When we found you, we didn't understand at first that your… brother was alive. His clothes were drenched with blood from the abdomen down, but his skin was unusually hot for a dead man. Yet, there was no indication that he was alive; he was pale and unresponsive." She shrugged. "I wanted to take you to the camp and then intended to bury this wounded man. We prepared to put him to a grave we had already dug, but one of gravediggers found it strange that his skin was so hot."

Archer blinked. "And what did you do then?"

"We checked his breathing on the blade of a knife and discovered that he was alive," Fatima replied. "It is a sheer luck that we realized he could be alive. Otherwise we would have buried him, and then he would have died in his grave."

Archer gave her a curious look of being painfully shocked by her tale. "And what happened then?" His great dream materialized – Robin was alive and there was a chance that he would survive.

"We took both of you to the village," Fatima continued. "I tried to tend to your brother's wound, but it is very serious – it is grave. He has been unconscious since then, also running high fever."

"So he… is really alive?" he asked, staring at Robin.

"Barely alive," Fatima pointed out, her voice sad. She let out a sigh of sorrow. "Your brother is more dead than alive. If he… survives, he will need much time to recover."

"How long are we with you?" Archer rubbed his eyes.

"For more than two weeks."

Archer broke into a violet cough. "Damn!"

"Your eyes and cough will get better. You seem to have spent much time in the cave, and as a result you caught cold during the night in the desert. You were feverish for more than two weeks." She looked between Archer and Robin. "But the nature of your fever was different, of course."

"I am alright. Really." But Archer felt weak and found it difficult to breath because of the cough.

"You speak Arabic so well."

Archer grinned. "Ah, your language is not very difficult to learn. I spent many years in the East, mainly in the Byzantine Empire." His gaze slid to Robin. "Robin also spent many years in the Holy Land. He fought for King Richard."

"Melek-Ric?" Fatima looked frightened.

"Uh-huh," Archer muttered.

Fatima paled, naked terror in her black eyes. "Oh God, please don't pronounce this name! My husband will kill you! He will sell you to slave traders! He hates the barbaric Melek-Ric!"

Archer pointed at Robin. "This man is one of King Richard's most prominent generals and his friend."

"My husband will murder you! He will murder you!" She repeated in horror.

Archer laughed at her, tilting his head to one side. "He cannot kill us or somehow harm us! Otherwise King Richard and Saladin will kill him and all your tribe too in vengeance."

Fatima gaped in bewilderment. "Who is he?"

"He is the legendary Captain Locksley. He is Sir Robin of Locksley, the Earl of Huntingdon," Archer said, proudly to his own surprise. "He is the man responsible who brought peace to the Holy Land."

Robin's name worked like a magic. The old woman smiled, her face brightened. The stories about the bravery, valor, and humanity of Captain Locksley had traveled even to the heart of desert. "Really? Is he… Captain… Locksley?" she stuttered.

A lock of light brown hair drooping rakishly over his forehead, Archer smiled at her. "Yes, he is Captain Locksley. He has a powerful name, doesn't he?"

"Yes." Fatima looked at Robin in adoration. "But he is so young to be a Crusader hero."

"Oh, believe me that he is Captain Locksley," Archer assured her with a large smile. "When I saw him for the first time, I had the same opinion. I thought that he looks like a boy, not a Crusader hero. He just has a lean build, and his face has kept its boyish charm." He chuckled. "I am also a little boyish. But it is so good to look younger than your real age."

She looked alarmed. "My husband is going to negotiate a deal with the caravan."

"What kind of a deal?"

"Slavery."

His anxiety growing every minute, Archer listened attentively to Fatima's story about her husband's plan for Robin and him. "We are so far from Acre," he almost wailed.

"Young man, we are the Bedouins, and we are always on the move," she supplied with a touch of some displeasure. "We found you and took you with us as we traveled from the coast to the Dead Sea. We had to move you with us; otherwise you would have died in the desert."

"I know, and I thank you for help."

"What are you going to do?"

"We have to leave. How can we to get to Jerusalem?"

Eyeing him suspiciously, she asked, "What are you going to do?"

Archer hunched a shoulder as if indifferently. "I am going to take Robin and ride to Jerusalem. One day of transportation won't make much difference if the grave wound or the sandstorm didn't kill him. It would be better to go away if your husband hates us."

"Hmm," Ali spoke behind them, standing at the entrance to the tent. "You will go nowhere. You are my captives! My Christian prisoners! Not when I know whom I have in my camp."

Fatima looked horrified. "Ali, you cannot do that! No!"

"I have heard that this man is Captain Locksley," Ali declared, his finger pointed at Robin. "I am going to ransom both of you. At least your miserable lives will bring me a good fortune!"

Archer grinned sheepishly. "Well, I will never let you do that to my brother and me."

"Then you are a fool! I will kill you for your foolishness!" Ali rushed to Archer and threw himself at the younger man on the mattress. Snarling and cursing, he placed the dagger against the Christian man's exposed throat. "I will kill you like your barbarian King killed thousands of the Saracens in our lands."

"Ali! Stop! Stop!" Fatima screamed in horror.

"Stay out of this, woman," Ali said between clenched teeth.

Archer laughed. "Ali, you are a weakling who is afraid of killing men," he taunted. "You are also a clodhopper who lacks manners and doesn't know how to treat women, even your own wife."

"Ali, please…please…" Fatima begged, fearing to come closer to her enraged husband.

Archer and Ali ignored her pleas. Ali gripped Archer's throat more tightly, the edge of the blade digging into the tender skin beneath his jaw. Yet, Archer was smiling at his would-be captor and killer in spite of feeling the blade bite sharply into his skin, the warm trickle of blood trickling down his throat.

With hard eyes, Ali studied the man trapped beneath him. "I killed many times in my life."

"I doubt that you have ever seen a swordsman whom even Gods themselves cannot defeat," Archer teased. "As you know who my wounded brother is, you should know about his reputation."

"I have overheard his name," Ali muttered morosely. "It matters not. He is the damned Christian."

"No?" Archer said, faking astonishment. "And you are so brave and so chivalrous that you will kill a weak and injured man?" He scoffed, looking up at the man who still lay atop of him. "Then why do I feel that your body is trembling from your neck to your toes?"

"I have killed many men, mainly Christians," Ali hissed, pressing the blade into Archer's throat.

"But you will never kill us," Archer returned. "That's one thing I know for sure."

With a battle-honed instinct, Archer kicked Ali in his stomach, and the Bedouin gave a howl of pain, cursing in Arabic. Pulling himself away from the dagger before it could find a new mark against the skin of his throat, Archer slammed a fist against Ali's face and struck him with his legs into the chest and into the groin. Ali doubled in pain, his moans muffled by Archer's rough palm.

"You are a greedy madman, Ali. Your madness predestined your death today," Archer said with a grin.

A blade flashed in front of Ali's startled eyes, and an unspoken cry of fear became a soft, surprised gurgle as the dagger sliced deeply into his throat. His eyes widened in mortal dread, and Ali gurgled with his own blood. Archer plunged the dagger into his throat deeper, and Ali's body shook in convulsions, and then he went still, his head nearly decapitated by the deadly slice of the blade.

Fatima barely repressed a cry of horror. "You killed him."

"I am sorry. I had to do that," Archer defended himself, his eyes apologetic. "Otherwise he would have probably killed Robin and me."

"You must escape. Otherwise my tribe will kill you," Fatima whispered.

"I would be grateful for a cart and a horse," Archer requested.

"I… will give you everything. Just take him and go."

"Of course, I will leave. My brother needs help. Here he will die." Archer was surprised how easily he referred to Robin as his brother; the troubles they had survived through together somehow bonded them. Their disappearance in the sandstorm was the bone of contention between them. He was ashamed of himself at the thought how much he had wanted to kill Robin before.

Fatima dashed to the pile of rags in the corner of the tent, hurrying to gather the clothes which she repaired for Robin and Archer while they were unconscious. "Take these clothes. Yours and his."

"Repaired?" He arched a brow.

"Yes." She nodded. "Take your weapons and your brother's things. Here is his blood-stained Crusader tunic, the mantle he was wrapped in, and his jeweled belt."

Archer smirked as he noticed King Richard's luxurious mantle among the things; it was good to have it because it would make his task less complicated during the process of Robin's identification. He let out a grateful smile, and then began dressing himself in the same old clothes he had worn on the day of regicide in Imuiz; it was repaired and mended by Fatima while he was feverish.

"I am so sorry that I killed him." Archer paused near her, and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

In shocked disbelief that Christian had apologized, Fatima stared at him as though he had lost his mind. "Ali wanted to kill you. He didn't want to take your from the desert, but I insisted."

"I will think of how to give my debt back," Archer offered. "I will think of something."

"Just leave." She shook her head, still shocked.

Archer smiled warmly. "Thank you."

The sun climbed high in the sky and the heat increased when the cart loaded with several loaves of bread, several flasks of water, and Robin's body, wrapped in the king's mantle, left the Bedouins' camp. When the cart began to move, desperate screams and curses were heard from the Bedouins, but Archer didn't turn around to look back. He instinctively tightened the horse's reins and quickly rode off into the desert. They seemed to have gone unnoticed by the robbers and the Bedouin spies; either they had the improbable luck or else the Mother of God had led them by her hand to Robin's salvation.

Archer spent a lot of time on his horse, with Robin lying in the cart, as they rode from village to village in the direction of Jerusalem. Robin was as quiet as a grave; he was unconscious and feverish, but he didn't speak in his fever today, which frightened Archer. Archer feared that the transportation would kill his half-brother. They rode in a deep, ominous silence without any stops, except when Archer checked on Robin's breathing and heartbeat for a moment. Once Archer was struck by a burning thirst, so powerful that he thought he might go crazy, and they made a short stop near the deserted village.

Archer got down from his horse and went to the cart. He opened the flask of water and came to Robin. Solicitously lifting up his head, Archer parted Robin's dry lips and poured some water into his mouth. Archer looked at a half empty flask of water, praying that they would reach Jerusalem sooner than they would die from thirst. They also had only a little food left.

Suddenly, Archer heard a barely audible moan. He stared at Robin, his eyes full of hope, his heart beating with a ferocious strength. "Robin! Robin!" he called.

Robin jerked his head up, and then his eyes flung open, his eyes glassy. "Where... am… I?"

Archer had never ever been so anxious before. "Robin! You are alive!"

Robin tried to move his weakened body, but he almost doubled in pain, and Archer had to restrain him.

"Oh." Robin blinked, filling dizzy.

"Don't move," Archer urged. "You are wounded."

"Imuiz… the king… the sheriff..." Robin swallowed hard and let out a short cough.

"You were in Imuiz, but you are not there anymore. We were lost in the sandstorm, and now we are going to Jerusalem. Someone will help us there. I will find a healer," Archer hurried to explain.

"Prince Malik," Robin whispered.

"What?"

"Find him. I saved his life once." Robin's eyelids fluttered down.

"Oh, Robin, it makes our life much easier. This Malik will find a good doctor for you."

As Robin passed out, Archer touched his forehead and groaned – Robin was feverish, hotter than the sand under the blazing sun. He covered Robin's body with King Richard's mantle; then he mounted the horse and drew the reins. As the cart moved, Archer thought that it was a matter of luck the Bedouins had the horse of good breeding and strength, so that it could travel long distances without many stops.

Archer prayed that Robin would survive the journey to Jerusalem. He didn't want Robin to die. The salvation of Robin's life became the most important thing in the world for Archer. It was a sort of atonement for siding with Prince John, participating in regicide attempt, and hating Robin for so long. Archer hoped that God would be generous and help him in his mission to save Robin Hood.

* * *

><p><em>I hope you truly enjoyed this chapter and the plot.<em>

_Guy, Marian, Allan, Much, Little John, and Roger de Tosny sailed from Acre, heading to the Angevin Empire. The confrontation between Much and Guy was inevitable because Much hates Guy and cannot forgive him for stabbing Robin from the back and even for the fact that Guy is alive while Robin is "dead". I believe that Much is behaving in character: he is very much hurting after Robin's supposed death because Robin was everything to him, and at times people might be too blinded by their pain. Out of all Robin's friends, Much is the least likely person to quickly accept Guy as their man, but I promise that the tension will diminish and Much will slowly begin to treat Guy civilly._

_Marian and Guy are confused with their feelings, emotions are bubbling inside them, and their heads are spinning after the dark revelations about the dark mysteries of the past. They are lost, trapped between the present and the past. Try to imagine yourself in their situation, and you will also feel like they do right now. They will be reeling for a long time, but it will get better eventually._

_Starting from this chapter, the development of Guy's character takes the change arc with a focus on Guy's redemption, which is possible only after the fall arc ends when Guy experienced complete emotional wreckage and was utterly broken after the revelation of the truths about the past. He no longer hates Robin, so his good words about Robin don't sound out of character after the twists in the previous chapters – after Guy's dramatic reconciliation with Robin Hood on Robin's deathbed. Guy realizes his own faults and start blaming himself for his misery, which you see in this chapter. _

_I hope you liked the story about Robin's survival: Robin and Archer were found by the Bedouins in the cave in the desert, and were taken into the Bedouins' camp. Archer and Robin are no longer in Acre because the Bedouins are nomads and always travel in the desert; it explains why they were not discovered by the king's men. I said once that Archer has his own role in regicide, so now you see what I meant – he saves Robin's life and delivers him to civilization. Robin couldn't have been alone after his body was lost in the sandstorm, so I decided that Archer would save the hero and redeem himself. The cave protected Robin and Archer from the sandstorm, so they didn't die in the sandstorm._

_In the next chapter, you will find medical explanation of how Robin couldn't have survived such a mortal wound (I researched the case). Now Robin fans must be happy because Robin is really alive, but I have to disappoint you because there is nothing interesting about Robin in the next chapter because he is feverish, between life and death. Interesting things begin when Robin's fever breaks and he wakes up a different man – the development of Robin's character takes the change arc with a focus on his disillusionment as the fall arc has already ended with culmination in regicide attempt._

**_Reviews are always appreciated, including well-grounded criticism._**

_If you find any typos and/or mistakes here, please let me know about them in a private message. _

_Thank you for reading this chapter. Have a lovely weekend._

_Yours faithfully, __Penelope Clemence_


	13. Chapter 12 Tables Turned

**Chapter 12**

**Tables Turned**

The sun was close to setting when Archer took notice of the walls of Jerusalem, the holy center of the East, looming up in a distance. Several guards stood by the New Gate in the northern part of Jerusalem; they were Saladin's soldiers, as well as several Knights Templar. One of the soldiers came to Archer's cart and took the bridle of his horse. The white-clad Knights Templar behind Saladin's guard instantly drew their swords and held them in Archer's path.

"May we pass?" Archer inquired in Arabic.

"Do you have Melek-Ric's banner?" The Saracen was astonished that Archer spoke Arabic fluently.

Archer didn't understand the implication of his words. "What?"

"You are an Englishman, aren't you?"

"Yes," Archer replied.

"Where is King Richard's banner?"

Archer shook his head. "I don't have it."

"Then you cannot enter."

"I have a wounded man in my cart. He is one of Melek-Ric's main men, and he once saved the life of Prince Malik," Archer said everything he knew about for Robin.

The Saracen eyed him suspiciously. "Liar! You just want to pass into the city and rob someone."

Archer smiled crookedly. "Hey, I know that I don't look very presentable, but I am not a thief."

"What is going on here?" the Knight Templar questioned as he approached the cart.

"I have a gift for you – Captain Locksley is in this cart," Archer declared proudly. "You are a Knight Templar. You should know him well. He killed your former treacherous Grand Master in a duel."

"Robin of Locksley died in Acre," the knight declared.

Archer grinned. "Did you see his body? I thought that he had been lost in the sandstorm."

The Templar looked startled. "You are right; they didn't find Captain Locksley, and they are currently digging everything around Acre at King Richard's order." A sigh tumbled from his lips. "But Locksley is surely dead. He was a brave man; it is a great pity that he died."

"I have him here." Archer's gaze flew to the cart. "He is alive, but only barely alive."

"Let's go and check," the knight conceded.

Two Knights Templar and two Saracen guards stared in blank amazement at the motionless body wrapped in the king's mantle; the Lionheart's well-known colors – red and gold – and an emblem of three lions emblazoned on the front of the mantle proved that the mantle belonged to the King of England. It was patently obvious, from the expression in their eyes, that they were utterly bewildered.

The Knights Templar exchanged quick glances. "This is King Richard's mantle," one of them said. "Do you have something else to prove that he is Sir Robin of Locksley?"

"We have never seen him in person, watching him only in a distance," another Templar enlightened.

Archer immediately found Robin's Crusader tunic in the cart; it was blood-stained and torn apart on the front. The Knight Templar took it in his hands and scrutinized it. As he saw the insigne of captain of the private guard on the sleeve of the tunic, his face turned shocked, but then he smiled joyfully.

"Let them pass," the knight instructed, a look of surprise on his face.

"Is he Captain Locksley?" another knight asked.

"Looks like Locksley is alive," the same knight said, his eyes worriedly taking in Robin's paleness.

"Yes! He is alive!" Archer answered fervently. "He asked me to take him to Prince Malik."

The Templar frowned. "Why? We have our own physician."

"His wound is grave. I doubt that your doctor will be able to help him," Archer insisted.

The knight shook his head disapprovingly. "Hiring a Saracen doctor for the high-ranking king's man is an awful idea!"

Archer shot him an annoyed look. "Robin is captain of the king's private guard and King Richard's beloved friend. The king would have done everything to save him," he pointed out. "Robin needs the best help. He must be saved." He cocked his head at one side. "Yeah, the safest doctor to treat you is a Saracen medic, the next safest no doctor at all, and the surely fatal one is Frankish."

"But Captain Locksley is a Christian general!" another Knight Templar exclaimed. He was clearly Norman, for he spoke English with strong accent. "It is blasphemy if he is treated by the Saracens."

Archer grinned haughtily. "I think that you should keep your thoughts to yourself. Whatever you say, Captain Locksley himself wished to be delivered to Prince Malik in Jerusalem." He arched a sardonic brow. "The wish of such a high-ranked man and general is a command, right?"

The Templar Knights scowled at the young impudent Englishman, but nodded in agreement. One of the knights commanded to let Archer's cart enter the Gates of Jerusalem, and then another man barked his instructions to surround the cart and escort it to Saladin's palace in the center of the city.

They rode into the center of Jerusalem, down narrow cobblestone streets towards the Temple Square, without being stopped by another patrol of guards on their way because they were accompanied by Knights Templar. Soon they neared the Temple Square and then turned to another street. They made their way to the area of the Temple Mount and soon stopped near the luxurious ancient palace.

Dressed in exquisite rich robes of ruby silk adorned with gemstones on the front and a white turban on his head, Prince Malik appeared before Archer and the Knights Templar angry and bewildered, his hazel eyes glittering dangerously. He was very displeased because he had been awoken by his servants who had notified him that someone had claimed to have brought the wounded Robin of Locksley; at first he didn't believe that Robin could be alive.

Malik looked at Robin with wide eyes filled with mixed feelings of disbelief, amazement, and joy. They had no time for useless imprecations, for Robin was sick and they had to think of saving his life. The prince commanded to bring Robin's body into the guests' quarters. Archer and a young Knight Templar together carried Robin through the great hall, decorated in austere colors of black and white, the walls and arched ceilings adorned with beautiful stone-worked carvings; then they climbed a sweeping staircase to the upper floor, and headed to the west wing of the palace.

The magnificent interior of the spacious bedchamber, decorated in vibrant colors with heavy, rich fabrics and intricately detailed lighting fixtures with fantastic lanterns, created a romantic environment of Middle-Eastern fairy-tale. Yet, Malik, Archer, and Yussuf, the prince's personal physician, had a grim mood, looking at Robin's lithe form that seemed breathless and lifeless in the dim, flickering light of the candles. As the doctor examined Robin and then cleaned up his wound, his features turned morbid and his mood was decidedly foul.

"If King Richard knew about Robin's survival, he would travel to Jerusalem," Archer assumed.

Prince Malik shook his head. "I doubt that Melek-Ric is in Acre. As far as I know, he should have already sailed from Acre." He looked at the physician who was tending to Robin's wound. "Tomorrow, I will send a messenger to Monsieur Henry of Jerusalem, Count de Champagne."

"Thank you," Archer said.

"Can you save him?" Malik asked quietly.

"I don't know. It is a sheer miracle that he is alive," Yussuf replied quickly as he bandaged the wound. "Too much time has passed since he was wounded. Infection has taken its toll on him."

"Yussuf, save him," Malik appealed in a low, husky voice, tight with emotion. "We owe him peace in the Holy Land. I owe him my life and freedom. He must live."

"I will do everything I can, but I am not Allah," the doctor said gravely.

The prince nodded gratefully. "Thank you."

"He has a slim chance for survival," Yussuf said mournfully. "But he is a fighter."

Malik shook his head. "He is a God's warrior."

Yussuf smiled slightly. "He is a blessed man. Any other man would have already died."

"God wills he will live," Archer said with confidence.

Malik seated himself into the chair, his expression curious. "Who are you, young man?"

A funny little smile curved Archer's lips, his eyes glowing queerly. "I am the Lord of the East, though not as rich and great as your Uncle Saladin, my prince," he retorted.

"Well, I see that your adventure in the desert hasn't addled your wits," the prince said with a light smile.

Archer looked away, embarrassment and guilt crawling through him. "I am Archer of Locksley," he said after a long pause. "I am Robin's secret half-brother."

There were such mingled intense conviction and deep embarrassment in Archer's voice that a faint flicker of interest showed in the prince's eyes. "Tell me about it," he said finally. "We have time."

As Prince Malik sent his messenger to Acre, Henry II of Jerusalem, King of Jerusalem and Count de Champagne, appeared in the holy city in several days, shocked that Robin had been discovered alive. Impressed with Djaq's medical talent she had displayed when she had professionally taken care of King Richard's arrow wound, de Champagne brought Djaq and Will to Jerusalem. However, Henry left for Acre in several days, asking to keep in touch with him through his trusted messenger. They decided not to make the fact of Robin's survival public at the stage when his life was in grave danger.

Djaq and Will stayed in Jerusalem, and the young Saracen physician joined Yussuf in their desperate attempts to fight with Robin's infection and save his life. Djaq and Yussuf regularly tended to Robin's injury, spending countless hours near the unconscious and feverish man.

Robin of Locksley plunged into oblivion, as if he were drowning in the unfathomable, ebony darkness that surrounded him from all the sides for many days. He was everywhere at the same time – in hell, in purgatory, in paradise, and on Earth. He was simultaneously in a deathlike sleep and in harsh reality with the undertone of whimsical strangeness. It was not clear whether Robin would cheat death again: Yussuf and Djaq thought that Robin's chances for survival were very slim.

Robin's health slightly improved in the next several days thanks to Yusuf's magic manipulations of the wound and the use of special medicinal herbs. But later, Robin's condition again worsened: redness around the wound and increased swelling were signs of a continuously developing infection, and soon the fever intensified, the temperature of his body skyrocketed.

Djaq and Yusuf Robin had really died but then had miraculously come back. Robin's heart had stopped beating in a regular rhythm for a little while his breathing and blood circulation had also ceased. But as most tissues and vital organs could survive death for some time, his body had begun functioning normally as soon as his heartbeat had restarted in a short while. The semblance of death had been caused by the shock Robin's body had sustained when he had removed the sword from his abdomen.

Yussuf and Djaq said that Fatima had taken a good care of Robin's wound, stating that if she hadn't cleaned it and tended to it every day, Robin would have already died. The two medics determined that the blade had injured Robin's liver and slightly his spleen, but it had miraculously missed the small and large bowel, thus, limiting the extent of the internal damage. Undoubtedly, the major blood vessels had been damaged, which had resulted in serious bleeding.

Unfortunately, abscess formed in the area of the wound. To save Robin's life, Djaq and Yussuf had to cut the wound open again and remove some rotten flesh; an alternative was Robin's impending death from infection. After that, Robin again had severe bleeding, and they had to cauterize the wound in order to seal the torn blood vessels. The same had happened to Robin in Acre over two years ago when he had contracted a high fever after Gisborne had stabbed him in his left side; his flesh had been removed to prevent further contamination, leaving him with an ugly scar as a reminder of the attack.

In the next weeks, Robin was more dead than alive. A wild fever ravaged his body, and his wound was raw again. Gripped by nightmares, Robin tossed and turned in his bed, and at times bloodcurdling howls of pain erupted from him. If he was not touched, he only quietly moaned in pain. Djaq and Yussuf often saw tears shining in Robin's tightly shut eyes. To lessen pain a little bit and let the wound heal better, Robin was given opiates, although only in small doses not to risk making him addicted to them.

Archer was always somewhere around. Archer gave the long tale about their adventures in the Bedouins' camp, and everyone was astonished to learn that he of all people had saved Robin's life. Although Archer told Malik about his true blood relationship with Robin, he requested that the prince keep that to himself for a while. Like Archer, Prince Malik often visited Robin, always hungry for positive news and always saddened with its absence.

Robin of Locksley was locked in a fierce battle with the most powerful and vicious enemy – death. The goddess of death was knocking at his door, smiling at him and inviting him to take her hand and go into the world of shadows with her, but goddess of life didn't let him go, looking at him with pleading eyes and whispering that it was not his time to die. In some moments, he was at peace even in the frightful darkness, enjoying the unforgettable sensations of absolute bliss and happiness. He was in the world of complete unreality, and yet everything seemed so real.

Robin's fevered dreams were dreadful and heartbreaking, and his body was aflame with pain. His mind was a constant tapestry of mourning because he could hear desperate moans of the people whom he had killed, anguished cries of those whom he had loved and had lost, loud sobbing of his friends grieving the loss of him, and quiet prayers for his immortal soul that had been so damaged by the holy war. His painful trance was like a profound and angry melancholy that gripped his heart.

Through the thick fog, Robin could hear a quiet voice in the back of his head that spoke to him, saying that he had to live for England, for King Richard, for Melisende, and for his friends. The voice was toneless and infinitely sad, but still encouraging him to fight with the darkness. The same voice whispered to him that King Richard, Melisende, and Marian needed him to save them. That voice assured him that he could fight and take on the world on his own.

In a month after Robin's delivery to Jerusalem, Saladin ordered to gather a counsel of competent physicians, but they answer was that Robin would most likely die from a fever and that he wouldn't regain his conscience. Nevertheless, the orders were not to give up on Robin, even if the case seemed hopeless. Saladin, Malik, and everyone prayed for his survival every day.

At times, Robin had dreams about Marian and Melisende, and each of these dreams summoned a ghost of a boyish grin on his face. Yet, the majority of time he wandered on the battlefields of Outremer, among his enemies. The worst of all his nightmares was about the capture of Acre by King Richard's troops when Robin had been bathing in an ocean of blood. In such moments, Robin unconsciously begged God to let him die a quick death instead of a long, painful death for all his killings and atrocities he had carried out with his sword; he often spoke about death aloud.

"This man is feeling so guilty of killing the Saracens, not like other Christians," Yussuf, the prince's physician, once told Djaq, with a look of utter surprise on his face. "It is quite inept for him, given his high station at Melek-Ric's war court."

Djaq smiled, looking at Robin with adoration. "Robin is not like others."

"Definitely not."

"Robin saved my life in England. If not for him, I would have died." Djaq leaned down and wiped off sweat from Robin's forehead with a damp cloth.

"My two younger brothers were killed by the Crusaders, Melek-Ric's men, who came to our village. They burned our house, and my brothers died in the fire," Yussuf said, his voice slightly shaking. "I hated all Christians since then." He pointed at Robin. "But this man is so different."

"Robert de Sablé's people killed my twin brother and my parents, and then Christian slave traders brought me in chains to England. I also hated all Christians before I met Robin and my English friends."

"I have heard that this man is responsible for peace in the Holy Land. Prince Malik calls him his dear friend."

Djaq nodded. "It is true."

"This man seems unreal to me."

Djaq soaked the cloth and put it on Robin's forehead. "I had the same sensation at first." She smiled knowingly. "But then I learnt more about Robin, and I was no longer surprised. I began to respect and love him. I stopped hating Christians only because of him."

"Maybe I will follow you on this path," Yussuf presumed.

Later Yussuf left, leaving Djaq with Robin who was gripped by a new fevered dream, tossing his head on the pillow. His slim frame shivered under the silk sheets and every muscle of his body knotted in fear. Wiping sweat from his forehead, Djaq swept her eyes over Robin's motionless form, her gaze fixing on the bandage wrapped around his torso. Robin started moving, moaning in pain, his hands roaming over his body. Djaq cupped Robin's head and brought a cup to his lips, making him swallow the liquid.

"Much! Much! Saracen raid! The king is under attack! Much!" Robin cried out, and a quite moan escaped his lips. "Go and get help, the king's tent! Go! Much! Now!"

Djaq sighed. She leaned down and started stroking Robin's hair that was soaking wet with sweat. "Robin, you stopped the attack. You saved King Richard from Gisborne in Acre and from Vaisey in Imuiz," she told him as if he could hear her.

Robin's expression was pained for a moment. "The king… King Richard…"

Djaq smiled sadly. "Robin, King Richard was so grief-stricken with your death, and he will be very happy to learn about your survival. You must recover because everyone needs you alive."

The door flung open, and Prince Malik came inside the chamber, with Archer trailing behind him; they befriended each another very quickly because Malik was really interested in Archer's past and, particularly, in his adventures in the East. Djaq immediately knelt to the prince, her head lowered in a respectful bow. The prince dismissed her with a wave of his hand, and approached the bed. Will came to Robin's bedchamber in a short moment.

"I came to see my dear friend," Prince Malik said with deep affection in his voice, his eyes full of languish. "How is Robin? Are there any changes?"

"Nothing has changed yet," Djaq replied, regret creeping into her voice.

The prince sighed. "As usual."

His brow furrowed, Archer stared at Robin. "So he is as close to death as he was yesterday."

"Allah won't take Robin's life. '_And it is He who gives life and causes death, and His is the alternation of night and day' is written in Koran_," Malik said in a loud, steady voice.

Archer breathed a sigh of frustration. "Poor Robin."

Djaq smiled at Malik. "It is also written in Koran that _'It is He who has created death and life that He might try you – which of you is best in deeds; and He is the Mighty, the Most Forgiving.'_ And I want to believe that Robin is best in deeds alive than dead."

"Allah wishes him to live," Malik said confidently.

"The sheriff! The sheriff!" Robin nearly screamed. "I cannot let him kill King Richard!"

"We will kill the sheriff," Archer promised. He clenched his fists in anger. "I would have killed him right now if he were in this room."

"Should we send a messenger to King Richard?" Will intervened.

"I don't think that it is a good idea," Prince Malik broke in. "You know that Melek-Ric is on his way to England. We don't know what his route he took. We should wait at least until Robin awakes."

"It is better to wait," Djaq agreed. "Robin will awake not in a good condition, and he will be unfit to travel for quite some time. But at least we will be able to inform the king that Robin is alive."

Malik shook his head approvingly. "It is the best course of action."

"Well, if you think so," Will said.

"My brother… the king… the sheriff…" Robin moved his body and groaned in pain. "No, no! I cannot let Vaisey kill Richard, and I cannot kill him either."

Startled amazement momentarily manifested on everyone's face.

"What is he talking about?" Archer asked. His heart was beating faster as he wondered whether Robin had known about his existence.

"He once said the same," Will added. "But Robin doesn't have a brother."

"King Richard and Queen Eleanor," Robin whispered.

Everyone stared at Robin in confusion. A terrible silence reigned in the room. Will and Djaq were quiet, thinking that Robin was in delirium. Archer stiffened. Uneasy with his conclusions, Prince Malik was the only one who began to suspect why King Richard loved Robin so much, but he preferred to keep the matters quiet; though he knew Archer's story, he doubted that Robin meant Archer.

A long silence seemed deafening, and Malik cleared his throat. "Robin is feverish, and he doesn't know what he is talking about. Many things he says don't make sense."

Will smiled. "He is muttering the names of the people whom he wants to protect."

Robin smiled vaguely. "Marian… Melisende…"

Archer scoffed. "It seems Robin Hood is in love with two women."

Djaq scowled at Archer. "Young man, mind your business." Despite Archer's role in Robin's salvation, she didn't trust him completely.

Archer decided against expressing his anger. "Well, as you wish. I will say nothing else."

Later, when everyone left the bedchamber, Prince Malik and Djaq heard the truth about Robin Hood's true parentage from feverish man. They were shocked with the revelation and decided to keep it in secret in case it was true; Malik even pledged not to tell Saladin about their findings.

Fever continued ravaging Robin's body for several more weeks. Then fever subsided a little bit, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. However, in several days fever returned and infection worsened. Again, Yussuf and Djaq had to cut the wound open for the second time; they removed the infected, rotting flesh from the wound and around it, but this time inflammation was not as severe as before.

Many hours slipped away, but nothing changed in Robin's condition. Prince Malik ordered his personal physician to do everything to save Robin, but the man said that at that stage only God could spare Robin's life, if even he could. Another week passed, and fever again subsided slightly, but Robin still was between life and death. He was ghostly pale and very thin, for his sickness had drained much strength out of him, and he had lost much weight.

There was only darkness around Robin, lit by the flickering light of a strange and glorious magic that was breathing life into him. But there was so much pain in his body that he wasn't sure he wanted to leave the darkness. His inflamed mind produced various visions as he tried to find his way to light, but darkness was everywhere, and he was lost.

In his dreams, Robin could see only chaos and disorder. Unreality was so similar to reality. His dreams were only the product of his imagination. Yet, some dreams were alive in his mind. Slowly, with small, faltering steps Robin made the first feeble attempt to impose some small order on the irreducible chaos of the thoughts and images whirling in his mind.

Then he found a thread, which he knew he had to seize, hold, follow, and it would lead him back to life through the twisted labyrinth of madness and darkness. Carefully, carefully, Robin made several steps ahead. Somewhere in that labyrinth, he saw a tiny ray of light at his feet, and then bright light almost blinded him. Light shone brighter as he advanced forward, and soon the darkness ahead was no longer complete – there was an orange glow ahead, shining like the rising sun.

The warm morning breeze fluttered the gauze curtains around the bed and filled the room with the fresh scent of jasmine and oil. Robin opened his eyes and stared at something blue with an intricate arrangement of golden patterns, which, however was not the ceiling. The images in his mind were shifting and changing, filling him with a wealth of emotions he couldn't describe.

Robin blinked. He found himself lying in a large bed of pure blue silk. He turned his head and looked around, but through the gauze curtain he could just barely see luxurious Arabic decorations on the walls. His head was spinning. He felt the silk sheets against his skin, enjoying their softness. He took a deep breath and felt his body relaxing.

He stretched his weakened body across the silk sheets and closed his eyes. He tried to move his body, but the violent pain slashed through his lower abdomen. He moaned aloud and tried to move again, but the same pain returned. He lay stricken, feeling helpless and frightened; his hands and forehead were clammy with sweat, his blue silk tunic slightly damp.

Robin lay still for a long, long time, his heart beating with thick, painful strokes, his thoughts churning wildly. He remembered voices and cries – somebody called him, someone was weeping, and someone talked to him. He shook his head, trying to remember the last events, but there were only mistful memories, unclear words, and disjoint fragments of the past in his mind, and all those pieces were slipping away if he tried to hold on.

Reality was slowly claiming Robin. Individual fragments were joining in the gradually emerging whole. The first thing Robin remembered was the monstrous, mind-numbing pain in his lower stomach, tearing his body apart atom by atom, the sensation as if a sword had deeply penetrated his flesh. He pressed his fingertips to his temples that throbbed painfully, trying to realize whether he had indeed been stabbed, but the mists grew darker.

Robin struggled to break through the thick wall of fog which surrounded him, and then images came. The first image was Sheriff Vaisey's malicious and sneering face, his jeweled tooth gleaming in the bright sunlight as he spoke his threats to kill Marian if Robin or Guy didn't kill King Richard. Then more images emerged – the deserted courtyard in Imuiz, King Richard's shocked expression and sorrowful gaze, Marian's beautiful face twisted in anguish and horror, Guy of Gisborne's astonished expression, Much's tear-stained face, and the shocked faces of his friends.

"You finally awoke," someone said almost tenderly. "How are you feeling?"

"Where am I?" Robin asked curiously. He tried to sit up in the bed, but a sudden jolt of pain surged through his abdomen. He reclined back on the pillows.

"You shouldn't do that. You have to spend several more weeks in a bed."

The gaze curtains swung open, and Robin looked up with his cloudy eyes. His eyes locked with the hazel eyes of the young Saracen who stood near his bed, dressed in rich white silk robes, a wide jeweled belt on his waist. The Saracen looked a bit tired and had dark circles below his eyes, but Robin quickly recognized him.

Robin blinked. "Malik?" He looked at the prince as if he were entranced, his head spinning.

The prince smiled down fondly at him. "We meet again, Robin of Locksley."

"But… how is that possible?" Robin's face changed into sheer amazement.

"It is a long story, Robin," Malik responded as he touched Robin's forehead. "Thanks be to God, your fever has subsided, at least for some time."

"This pain," Robin rasped. He moved and gave a scream. Thunderbolts of pain shot through his midsection and reached his hips and thighs if he moved.

"You were mortally injured."

"I remember that I died."

"You did."

The pale blue eyes widened in astonishment. "But I am here."

"You had died but then you came back." The prince laughed merrily. "Tell me, Robin of Locksley, are you a God-blessed man?"

Robin was in a daze. "No. Yes. No."

"Certainly, yes." Malik laughed. "God spared your life. You survived for a reason."

"Oh," Robin breathed, barely able to utter a word. He was dizzy, and the world was a swirl of colors.

"It is the effect of herbs. They take pain away." The prince sank into the creamy silk next to the wounded man. "They are very powerful, and you feel as if you were flying like a bird for many hours."

Robin's eyes danced with amusement. "But I am Robin," he said with a stupefied expression.

The prince chuckled. "Ah, surely! You are a little bird, as your friend, the Earl of Leicester, calls you."

"It hurts so much." Robin swallowed hard, his face contorted with a spasm of pain.

Malik rose to his feet. "I will ask my physician or your friend to give you something from pain."

"Yes, please." Robin shut his eyes and lay still while the prince disappeared from his eyesight and went somewhere, calling someone and saying that he had awoken. He heard a low baritone talking to Malik in Arabic; he recognized Djaq and Will's familiar voices, with apparent notes of relief and joy.

The curtains opened, and the four people appeared near the bed. Yussuf carefully peeled off his tunic, and gently removed the bandage from the wound, and Robin gave out a howl of pain. Robin lowered his eyes and his gaze fixed on the fresh wound, still barely healed; he lowered his hand to his belly and was about to trace his fingers along his injury, but Djaq quickly took his hand away, slapping him on his forearm.

"Oh," Robin groaned, his eyes shut.

"Don't do that, Sir Robin!" Yussuf ordered in heavily accented English.

"So naughty, like a child," Djaq said jovially. Nervous laughter bubbled to her lips, dispelling the tension that had accumulated in her heart.

"He was a wild and disobedient child," Will commented with a blithesome smile.

"And he grew up into a mischief-maker," Malik supplemented.

"Of course," Robin said huskily. A spasm of pain coursed through him, and he stiffened against it. After a moment, the pain in his stomach subsided. "Otherwise there would be the fun in that?"

Prince Malik laughed softly. "It is impossible to keep anything from him."

Djaq threw her head back and laughed. "He is becoming himself."

Will's face was pleased. "This is the old Robin we love."

Djaq put a gentle hand on her patient's forehead. "Robin, be a good man and don't move – you may tear the stitches. You cannot touch your wound – you may irritate it and cause yourself more pain." Her heart constricted and for a moment she couldn't speak, exhausted with the constant worry about Robin's health. "Besides, the wound is still infected. Don't cause yourself more trouble."

Robin looked shaken and disoriented. "I am sorry."

Yussuf took several bottles filled with powders and liquids; he mixed ingredients and measured a few splashes in the alabaster cup that contained an ointment of rose oil and ground garlic. Djaq took the cup and soaked a cloth. They put a cloth on Robin's stomach and kept it there for at least five minutes; it was cool and irritating, and all that time Robin quietly moaned in pain. They bandaged the wound again, slowly and with utmost care, but every touch was painful for Robin and his loud cries of pain pierced the hot air.

Prince Malik and Will stood near them, their faces concerned and pale.

Djaq managed a smile. "Shhh," she murmured. "It is already done, Robin."

"Pain will be gone soon," Yussuf promised.

Robin turned to meet her gaze with wide and troubled eyes. "How much time has passed?"

"Many weeks," Yussuf replied.

"How many?" Robin persisted.

"What a stubborn man!" the physician exclaimed. "Stubborn to die! Stubborn in everything!"

"More than two months since you were stabbed." Robin saw a silver goblet near his mouth, and Djaq's voice spoke again. "Drink this. It will help you fall asleep."

Robin slowly drank the bitter liquid and was rewarded with a feeling of vitality coursing through him. "I want home," he whispered, clutching Djaq's hand. "I want to my wife."

Djaq looked somewhat bewildered. "You will go home, Robin, as soon as you get better."

"King Richard and everyone will be very happy to see you. Your wife, Lady Melisende, will give you a great surprise – your child. Imagine a boy or a girl with sandy-colored or red-gold hair and your pale blue eyes. Isn't it good to have a child?" Will said, thinking that good news would please Robin.

Robin's dazed mind struggled to make sense of Will's words. The beautiful female name – Melisende – rang in his ears like a bell, waking his bewitched senses, casting off the thick fog of confusion. "It is great," Robin whispered with a dreamy smile.

Djaq pressed her hand to his forehead, pleased to feel that it was no longer as hot as it had been before. "Sleep, Robin. You should sleep."

Robin pressed his hands before his brow, suddenly too lightheaded. He stared into Djaq's brown eyes, and her gaze drew him deeper and deeper, into the darkness of the blackest void. Lightning shot through his spine, burning away his consciousness. Golden light filled him, and he passed out.

During the next weeks, Robin was in a trancelike sleep that left him oblivious of his surroundings and yet not entirely losing the fleeting glimpse of reality. Robin knew that he was alive, but everything was enveloped in a thick mist. He guessed that it was the effect of the opiate herbs they gave him. He heard familiar voices speaking hurriedly somewhere nearby, as well as the deep voice of phantom that soothed his fears. Robin often awoke in pain and was in conscience only for a short time, and then he was given food and drinks, and he ate automatically, swallowing piece by piece.

Everything was messed up in his head, and yet it was reality as Robin struggled for his own life with death. The visions of the past flickered in his mind, but everything was misty, and the only clear sensation he had was the pain in his abdomen that blazed so hot and pierced his heart that tears sprang to his eyes and he fell further into darkness that hovered like a blanket of clouds over him.

§§§

The journey across the Mediterranean Sea had taken more time than the captain of the ship had expected. The small travelling party, which included Marian, Guy, Little John, Allan, Much, and Roger de Tosny, had overcome many obstacles during their trip. They had followed a standard route: they had passed Cyprus and then had made a short stop in Palermo. Yet, battered by autumn storms, the ship had been carried further to the north from the coast of Sicily, and when one evening they had fallen asleep, they hadn't known that the morning would find the ship far from the port where they had planned to land.

The ship had been tossed by the storm in the angry Mediterranean Sea for two weeks. Beaten out of the course, the ship had sailed to the north and finally had found shelter in Naples. They could have taken an inland route through Italy, but nobody had wished to cross the Alps in the autumn time. Thus, they had lost weeks when the ship had journeyed back to the south, had made a stop on Sicily, and then had taken its course on Marseilles.

They had disembarked in Marseilles and then had taken an inland route through the continental territories of the Anvengin Empire, travelling through Aquitaine, Anjou, Maine, and Normandy. They had made a short stop in Poitiers at the royal court because Roger de Tosny had carried personal correspondence from King Richard for Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine. But Queen Eleanor hadn't been there as she had departed to Bordeaux with the court. It had been rumored that the Queen Mother had intended to travel to England after leaving Bordeaux and making a stop in Poitiers.

From Poitiers, they had begun their journey to the north accompanied by a small escort party of several Crusaders, also returning to England from the Holy Land. The trip from Poitiers to Normandy had been more exciting than the sea voyage that had exhausted everyone. They had crossed Normandy and had headed to Calais to cross the English Channel if storms didn't delay their departure. In Calais, the weather conditions permitted them to travel upon arrival.

They returned to Nottingham in the November day that was gray and drizzly. A few dark clouds scudded across the sky, and the afternoon light was settling into dusk. The travelers were reduced to immobility after several days of traveling from Dover to Nottingham. Sir Roger de Tosny was not with them: they had parted ways in Caen as de Tosny had departed to his estates in Conches before joining the Earl of Leicester and the king's army to defend the Norman territories from King Philippe's troops.

Despite the king's recommendation to stay away from Nottingham until his return, they came back. Little John missed Sherwood and Locksley, craving to find his son and wife because he wasn't an outlaw anymore and could give them a better life. Much wished to go to Bonchurch and to the woods, feeling closer to Robin in Nottingham than anywhere else. Marian wanted to visit her father's grave and then leave the town, and Guy pretended he liked her idea, stealthily intending to carry out his vengeance plans against the sheriff. Allan decided to accompany Guy and Marian.

They looked in awe at the crowds of people gathered in the town, failing to understand what was going on. The armed soldiers in the uniform of Prince John's Elite Guard guarded all four entrance gates to Nottingham, and every narrow street was overcrowded.

"This I don't like," Little John said.

"Look, mates, it seems that Prince John's army is in Nottingham," Allan declared.

"Yes, these soldiers wear Prince John's colors," Guy confirmed.

"Alright, what are we gonna do?" Allan asked.

"How many men does Prince John have?" Guy sounded nonchalant, his eyes scanning the street ahead.

"Thousands," Much snapped.

John shook his head. "No!"

"Hundreds," Much made another attempt to guess.

"Much!" Marian shot the former servant an astonishing look.

"I didn't stop and actually count them! I can't count." Much ignored the low growl of hunger that his stomach produced, and gazed disdainfully at Guy. "Why is the prince coming?"

"It seems that the prince is visiting all the nobles in England to grease their palms," Guy assumed. "He is trying to buy their loyalty before King Richard returns."

"Does he think that he can buy them?" Allan said, cocking an eyebrow.

"Prince John can do many things. He is trying to turn the nobles and their men against the king to seize the throne, so King Richard returns to King John's England," Guy explained.

"We cannot let that happen!" Marian exclaimed, her chin thrust belligerently forward.

"Maybe we should wait," Allan offered. "The king is on the way back to England."

"No! We cannot wait! We must learn what is happening! Robin wouldn't have waited – he would have acted!" Little John broke in heatedly. "Every noble the treacherous Prince buys will bring us closer to civil war between Prince John and King Richard. It will tear this country apart."

Guy scoffed. "What a great political astuteness."

"Nobody asked you, Gisborne," John grumbled, his brows drawing together in a black scowl.

"We should go there," Marian gave her verdict.

"Robin would have done everything to stop Prince John!" Much burst out hotly. "We should go and learn what Prince John is going to do against King Richard."

"It is dangerous, but we should investigate," Marian agreed.

Guy eyed the group, smiling to himself. For the first time in the past four months, he agreed with Hood's annoying manservant who was becoming a thorn in his backside during their journey from Acre. Yet, Guy had a different objective to go to Nottingham – he craved to spill Vaisey's blood. He was waiting for that moment for so long, and now he was too close to go back, so he supported Much.

"I agree. We should go," Guy prompted.

Marian raised an eyebrow. "Guy?"

Guy smirked. "What?"

Marian was alarmed. "What are you planning?"

Guy shook his head. "Nothing."

"The sheriff can recognize you, Guy," Marian supposed.

"You think so?" Guy threw his head back and laughed.

Marian flinched at his laugh, considering it irrelevant. "Well, you have changed. You look tired and careworn."

"At least I am not dead." Guy hinted at Robin's death in the Holy Land, which affected him much more than he had been ready to admit even to himself.

Guy looked truly different – not like the sheriff's drop-dead powerful henchman. He was unkempt and disheveled, and his eyes were sunken, his face haggard, his cheeks hollow. He was much slimmer than before because had lost much weight. His hair grew longer, and his black locks were messy, wild and untamed. Besides, he wasn't clad in black leather on that day: he wore a rough, long brown cloak over a simple black tunic and black flat trousers.

They moved in the direction of the central courtyard and the castle of Nottingham. The growing crowd was blocking their path and the armed men were everywhere. As they came closer to the castle, they found it increasingly difficult to penetrate the noisy throng. Eventually, Guy and Little John had to use their wide shoulders to clear the way for them, ignoring the babble of agitated voices all around them.

As they finally reached the courtyard, they noticed a heavy presence of guards with crossbows and drawn swords. Marian started trying to find a vantage point to have a better observation of the surroundings, but then a sudden oppressive silence attracted her attention. The crowd on the square fell silent, and each pair of eyes stared at the front steps.

A hand pulled at Marian's sleeve, and she looked at Guy. "Marian," Guy called.

She gave him a questioning look. "What?"

Guy bent his head to her ear. "Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine and Prince John," he informed.

Blinking her eyes in startled amazement, Marian stared at the Queen Mother's tall, well-proportioned, slender figure. Without any exaggeration, Eleanor of Aquitaine looked stunning and majestic, and even at her old age she still seemed to be at the height of her charm, beauty, and magnificence.

Marian had never seen Eleanor of Aquitaine before, but she had always been impressed with the woman's unique and notorious biography. The knowledge that Eleanor was not only the Queen Mother, the wealthiest, the most scandalous, and the most powerful woman in the Angevin Empire, but also Robin's mother was overpowering and unbelievable. Guy had seen the Queen Mother once or twice before, and but now, knowing who she was for Robin Hood and what role she had played in his old-world conflict with Robin, emotions he had never experienced before ripped through him; strangely, the knowledge of the secret cheered him.

"What is the Queen Mother doing here?" Marian asked, bewildered.

Rapidly, Guy ran his eyes over the prince and Eleanor; then he turned his gaze at Marian. "King Richard is on his way home, but Prince John doesn't want his mother to meet with the king. I assume that John is going to arrest her, if he hasn't already done that."

Marian looked appalled. "This is revolting!"

Guy laughed. "Well, it is a usual thing in the Plantagenet family."

Prince John walked through the great hall of the Castle of Nottingham, heading to the front steps of the castle where crowds gathered at his invitation. John was impressive and stylish as ever, dressed in an eccentric ermine mantle unfastened on the front and revealing his royal purple velvet tunic beneath his mantle. The padded shoulders made him look taller, and his tunic glittered with golden studs sewn in the form of lozenges; a magnificent cloak of crimson shimmering silk swept from his shoulders and cascaded down his back in deep folds.

Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine walked next to Prince John, her posture regal and proud despite her old age. She matched her youngest son in splendor, draped in a luxurious sable mantle unfastened on the front. Beneath her fur mantle, she wore a deep-bosomed purple gown, with bronze embroidery on the front, its sleeves edged with black lace identical to the delicate lace that formed the raised veil on her high headdress that hid her long silver hair arranged in a loose bun on the nape of her head. The style of her clothing revealed the elegant bones and slender curves which had made her a stunningly beautiful woman in her youth; the chiseled cheeks and jaw still served her well. The lively, regal glow in her blue, expressive eyes belied her age.

The noblemen bowed and ladies curtsied, and the queen gave them her regal smile. Sheriff Vaisey and Lady Isabella of Gisborne walked behind the prince and the queen. Guy's eyes flashed with hatred as he saw Isabella and Vaisey, and he glared at them venomously. Vaisey looked confident and smug, and Guy could see the gleam of his jeweled teeth and the half smile on his lips. Isabella looked bright and lovely in a pink gown adorned with crimson lace on the sleeves.

Slightly amazed, Queen Eleanor looked at her youngest son. "John, what is going on?"

Prince John smiled cunningly. "My dear mother, you have to wait a little more."

The Queen Mother hesitated for a moment, but then, flashing the prince a searching look, spoke. "You said that you invited me to England to celebrate Richard's peace treaty with Saladin, but it is not true."

John cocked a brow. "You are right, mother. I invited you because I wanted to make a surprise for you and for myself." His eyes sparkled with gladness.

"What are you planning, John? Is it related to Richard?"

The prince laughed. "Let's talk about Richard later."

"John, why did you gather all these crowds here?" the Queen Mother pressured.

"As I said, I have a surprise for everyone," John purred, the corners of his lips quirking in a smile. "Let us hope that you find it memorable. I will certainly do my best to see to it that you are pleased."

Queen Eleanor sighed heavily. His words and smile only increased her discomfort, and she glanced around for distraction. The uncertainty unnerved her very much. Prince John was highly conscious of the queen's presence by his side, pleased that she had come so quickly at his first invitation. He had a special surprise for her, and there was nothing that could spoil his delight to see her face at the upcoming announcement.

Guy looked at the prince and the queen for a long time, and then his gaze traveled to a group of ladies-in-waiting behind the queen. He lingered his gaze at a slender female figure of a young, fractious, dark-haired, undeniably beautiful creature. The lady was dressed in a long velvet mantle adorned with diamonds and pearls on the front, which wasn't fastened, revealing a stylish low-cut gown of pale green jaconet muslin enveloping her slender body tightly and floating daintily above the ground. A yellow silk ribbon was woven amongst the fiery strands of her glorious chestnut hair, shining about her creamy neck.

Guy swallowed hard as he took in every line and movement of the lady's slender body, as if he were looking at temptation itself. His mind grappled with an acute, frightening awareness, Guy shook his head, thinking that he must have gone mad to be so curious about the unknown Queen's lady; he cursed himself viciously. He was a married man, despite an uncharacteristic distance between Marian and him in the past months. Most importantly, he came to Nottingham to kill Vaisey instead of indulging himself into contemplation of young maidens, all the more the queen's ladies.

The woman Guy looked at was Lady Megan Bennet of Attenborough, one of Eleanor's most entrusted ladies-in-waiting and her confident. Prince John liked her and was interested in her, though much of his curiosity sprang from the fact that Megan was very close to the queen, who respected and loved her so much that she often asked Megan's opinion on the some important matters.

Smiling at Queen Eleanor, John squeezed his mother's hand as they made their way to the front steps, and the nobles, many of whom were the most powerful magnates of the realm, parted to let them pass, many eyeing them with open curiosity in anticipation of the prince's proclamation. They paused just in the doors of the castle, and then slowly walked to the steps.

Holding Queen Eleanor's hand high, Prince John raised his right hand and smiled craftily; then his expression changed into sadness. "My precious people of Nottingham, today is the most unhappy day for our realm," he promulgated in a deep, sonorous voice. "Mark my words you will never forget it."

John felt the queen's hand tremble, pleased with the effect his words had on the old lady. He had dreamt of crushing his mother's will and spirit for so long, and he had wanted to see her miserable and trembling in fear. Now the moment of his triumph had come, and his heart began to race with maddening delight. Queen Eleanor didn't look at her youngest son; she cast a sidelong glance at Lady Megan Bennet who shot her a worried look and then looked back at the crowd.

"My dear people," Prince John addressed the crowd pompously, "we received dreadful news from the Holy Land! One vile and low man tried to kill my beloved brother, our most gracious and benevolent King Richard I of England, the Lionheart, in Acre." He relapsed into silence, his expression transforming into a feigned relief. "Fortunately, our king is alive."

A deathly hush fell over the crowd. All the eyes were attached to Prince John.

"But there was innocent blood spilled during the regicide attempt," John continued. He rubbed his eyes, as if brushing away tears. "I am struck with utmost grief and despair, but I have to inform you that Sir Robin James Fitzooth of Locksley, the Earl of Huntingdon and Count de Bordeaux by his marriage to my cousin, Lady Melisende Plantagenet, saved our king's life and heroically died in Acre. Sir Robin's blood was a sacrifice for the Angevin Empire, for England, for King Richard, for my family, for me, and for all of us."

The crowd gasped in horror. The people began to whisper. Many crossed themselves.

"No! No! No!" the hooded man in the crowd screamed in horror. He was Sir Malcolm of Locksley, who was still hiding in the forest, patiently waiting for Robin's return from the Holy Land.

"Holy mother of God!"

"Oh my goodness!"

"Robin Hood was a hero! He was a great man!"

"He died so young!"

"He died for King Richard! This is a heroic, most honorable death!"

"Master Robin is dead!"

"Lord of Locksley is dead!"

"No," Queen Eleanor murmured to herself. She closed her eyes, the horrible images of Robin in a blood-stained Crusader tunic flashing in her mind. Forcing down the terror that rose in her throat, she looked at the prince's unsmiling face, with a tiny smirk quirking in the corners of his lips, and she was unsure of how to react to the news and whether it was John's foul play or the truth.

Prince John raised his hands up to silence the crowd. "Sir Robin of Locksley's death is a frightful, great loss for all of us! He was a unique man! He was our hero! We will never forget him! His memory and our love for him will always live in our hearts! We will cherish his memory forever!"

A silence was becoming oppressive and almost killing. So profound was a silence that had fallen in the wake of the prince's announcement that even the sound of heavily booted feet was clear as guards paced forward from the castle entrance to the corners of the square.

"I know that we are in inconsolable grief. I still cannot believe that Sir Robin is in Heaven, may his soul rest in peace." Prince John's expression was immensely sad; he was indeed a great actor. "Do you want to know who cruelly murdered Sir Robin of Locksley, our most honorable friend and our noble hero whom we all loved so much?"

The crowd was lethally silent in anticipation.

Prince John outstretched his hands, as if embracing the crowd. "I will tell you the truth," he said in a high voice. "Sir Guy Fitzcorbet of Gisborne went to the Holy Land and attempted to assassinate my brother – our fair, brave, and blessed King Richard." He crossed himself. "Thanks be to God, Gisborne was stopped by Sir Robin Fitzooth of Locksley, the Earl of Huntingdon and Count de Bordeaux, also captain of the king's private guard. Sir Robin sacrificed his life to save our beloved king."

Sheriff Vaisey stepped forward, and Prince John nodded at him, smiling. A silence was deadly.

The sheriff swept his eyes over the mob; his face was neutral, though he barely concealed a malicious glee on his face. "_Guy of Gisborne is a cold-blooded murderer! He tried to kill King Richard, but instead he killed Robin Hood! He betrayed England and our king! He is the most dangerous criminal in England and deserves to burn in hellfire for all his crimes._" His gaze was nearly grave, his tone lugubrious, but his heart was hammering in pleasure.

"Justice! Justice!" one of the peasants shouted.

Vaisey waved his hand for silence. "Blah-di-blah-di-blah! Guy of Gisborne is a high traitor to England and King Richard. He also… betrayed my trust and deep devotion to him." He imitated a gesture of brushing away tears. "It is… very painful for me to realize… that I was deceived by Gisborne throughout so many years. Gisborne backstabbed me when he betrayed our king, whom I deeply love and respect. I never thought that I nurtured a snake in my bosom."

The sheriff smiled smugly, and so did Isabella. They both wished Guy dead. Isabella struggled to keep herself from laughing openly, feeling happy for the first time in many years since Guy had arranged her marriage to Squire Thornton. Vaisey was a little saddened that Gisborne had sided with the king in the end, but he couldn't forgive Guy for the flagrant betrayal.

Prince John wheezed a breathy laugh which caught in his throat. "In the name of my brother King Richard I of England, I, Prince John of England, hereby proclaim that Guy of Gisborne has been stripped of all the titles and lands. I strip him of his knighthood because he betrayed his vows of chivalry and honor, which he gave when he was knighted." His eyes flashed with pleasure, for he loved to make such spirited speeches in front of so many people. "This man deserves the worst that can befall him." He trailed off, his eyes darting around the crowd and focusing on the sheriff.

"I, Lord Peter Vaisey, the Sheriff of Nottingham, hereby pronounce Guy of Gisborne an outlaw," Vaisey took up the initiative, his eyes full of malice. "People consorting with this criminal automatically become outlaws. It is the responsibility of all dutiful subjects to report to the authorities – to your Sheriff – everything you know about Gisborne's location and help us capture this villain."

Sheriff Vaisey went to Prince John, and his fingers settled upon the prince's shoulder. "Sire, what about the Earldom of Huntingdon and the Locksley estates?" he questioned. "They reverted to the crown, didn't they?" He planned to take Locksley for himself after Robin's death and having Guy outlawed.

Prince John grinned. "No. Lord Roger de Lacy will continue acting as a temporary overlord of Locksley and the Earldom of Huntingdon."

"But why, sire?" Vaisey was confused. "Robin Hood didn't have heirs."

The prince laughed. "My friend Vaisey, I know this predatory gaze. Not this time," he said. "Soon you will understand the reason."

"As you command, sire," Vaisey said reluctantly.

Prince John stared at the crowd. "My honorable people," he announced as he raised his hand to silence everyone, "I also have some positive news for you. Sir Robin of Locksley married my beloved cousin, Lady Melisende Plantagenet, the Countess of Huntingdon and Countess de Bordeaux, several months before his tragic death." He paused, his eyes briefly lingering at Vaisey and then returning to the crowd. "I am pleased to inform you that my cousin Melisende will give birth to Sir Robin's child in several months. Regardless of the child's sex, he or she will be the lord or the lady of Locksley, as well as the Earl of Huntingdon or the Countess of Huntingdon in her own right."

The announcement drew a gasp of astonishment and amazement from the crowd, and then the people of Locksley broke into cries of joy, consoling themselves with the fact that the lands would be in the possession of the people with the Huntingdon blood.

"God bless Lord Robin's wife!" someone from the villagers of Locksley declared.

"Thanks be to God that the Huntingdon line hasn't died out," someone in the crowd said.

"It is better than nothing," Malcolm of Locksley whispered to himself.

Once upon a time, Malcolm of Locksley had thought that the death of his wife Elizabeth was the worst thing that could have happened to him. Then he had believed that Ghislane of Gisborne's accidental death was the worst event as he had loved Ghislane very much and had mourned for her. Now he thought that he had never known such a great pain and misery before. Now he was mad with grief and wanted to kill himself with the dagger hidden in the inner pocket of his warm cloak.

Malcolm looked at Prince John, and then his eyes darted to Queen Eleanor. He was shocked how ghostly pale she looked, thinking that her whiteness reflected his own under the hood. He kept staring at her, and his eyes briefly locked with hers. He was sure that she recognized him, for she lingered her gaze at him for an instant. They both were hurting terribly at that moment.

The hooded man couldn't take it any longer. He had to leave the town. He wanted to go to the forest, to the cave where he lived at that moment. Sherwood had many memories about Robin, and he wanted to be closer to his son. He began making his way out of the crowd, roughly pushing everyone from his way. He had to leave Nottingham and think how to take his revenge on Gisborne.

§§§

"The people of Nottingham," Prince John declared in a loud voice, "Sir Roger de Lacy will continue the ongoing management of Sir Robin's lands in the interests of my cousin Melisende and Sir Robin's heir."

Vaisey smiled knowingly. He understood that Prince John didn't want to take away the lands of the child of royal blood. Besides, the sheriff knew that Prince John liked and respected Melisende Plantagenet, which had always amazed Vaisey, for he believed that the prince loved only himself. He had seen Melisende only once at the court in London, and he thought that if the lady came to Locksley and to Huntingdon and suddenly started ruling the lands in the interests of her child, he would find himself in trouble because Melisende was so much like Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine.

"Help us stop Guy of Gisborne, and you will be generously rewarded," John promised, and his voice was the sound for a new silence. "We are giving three hundred pounds for Guy of Gisborne's head! The murderer must be captured and punished!"

Vaisey and Isabella stared at Prince John in admiration. They both liked his theatrical performances.

The absolute stillness was broken by the chilling, agonized screams of the people of Locksley who cursed Guy of Gisborne and demanded his execution. The shocked spell was broken, and angry voices sprang up, thirst for vengeance flaring up in the peasants' hearts.

"Guy of Gisborne is a murderer! He killed my brother! I want him dead!" Kate of Locksley screamed.

"Guy of Gisborne deserves to die a brutal death!" Rebecca of Locksley shouted.

"Gisborne killed Sir Robin, our beloved and heroic Lord of Locksley and the Earl of Huntingdon! He killed Robin Hood, our beloved hero and savior!" Raymond, the middle-aged carpenter from Locksley, declared. "Vengeance against Gisborne! Death to this man!"

"We need no money to capture him! It is our duty to find Sir Robin's murderer and make him pay for our Lord's death," a young man from Locksley said.

"We must catch and destroy Guy of Gisborne!" an old peasant from Locksley encouraged.

"Gisborne also killed Bridget and Thornton!" another villager shrilled.

"Death to Guy of Gisborne!"

"Blood for blood!"

The crowd was bloodthirsty and would have murdered Guy on the spot if they had discovered him among them. They were full of fire and hatred, underpinned by bloodthirsty passion.

Guy clenched his jaw, glaring ferociously at Sheriff Vaisey from the crowd. "You will pay to me for everything," he hissed in a whisper, a whizzing sound filled with loathing and mortal hatred.

"Blimey!" Allan looked horrified.

"Oh," Little John breathed.

"No," Marian whispered.

Much gasped for air, his eyes widened. "What is going on? Prince John is mad! We must–"

"Shut up," Guy interrupted.

"Stay away from me, Gisborne," Much replied between clenched teeth. "Nothing will ever change my attitude towards you. You are a traitor and a murderer, and I hate you."

"I am not asking you to like me," Guy fired back.

Much smiled nastily. "But there is another thing here. Look, lads, the bounty on Gisborne's head is so high! We are not outlaws anymore, and we cannot associate ourselves with him! We can turn him in and get more money for him!" He purposefully unnerved Gisborne.

A fury kindled in Marian's eyes. "Much, when will you stop hating and insulting Guy? It is even worse that you are doing that deliberately. You were taunting Guy on the way back here, and he remained calm, ignoring your spiteful comments. How long do we all have to be patient?"

Much let out a delighted smile. "I am glad, so glad! Gisborne is in our shoes – he is an outlaw."

"Gisborne would have been pleased to lead a free and wild life in the forest," Little John agreed; the words came out easily, almost naturally.

Much sniggered. "It is excellent. Tables are turned now."

"I am sick of you!" Marian glared at Much and John.

With a cold, set look on his face, Guy strode forward, only a step in the crowd, and grabbed Much's shoulders. "Mind your business, you miller's son!"

Much smirked at Guy's loss of temper. "Sleep more, you traitor. You look too worn out."

Guy drew his sword and pressed the blade to Much's throat. "Don't provoke me. I don't want to cause you any harm."

Allan came to them. "Stop, mates! It is not funny!" He looked between the two men. "Guy, release Much."

Marian shook her head. "You are like two stubborn mules! You are not enemies anymore."

John stood between them. "Much and Gisborne, enough." He swung his gaze at Guy. "Nobody meant that we would betray you, Gisborne."

"At least someone has some brains left." Guy pushed Much aside and sheathed his sword.

Much stepped aside, both outraged and frightened, his face marred by a deep scowl. John grumbled something unclear. Allan looked worried and simultaneously annoyed.

"We must think about the sheriff and stop quarrelling! The sheriff crossed the line! He must be dealt with today!" Stirred by obstinate determination, Marian strode forward, intending to announce the truth about Robin's supposed death to the world.

"Stop! You will go nowhere," Guy said quietly, restraining the surge of anger that shook him inside.

"Guy, we cannot let them disgrace your name!" Marian exploded. "The king pardoned you!"

Guy's full mouth curved into a faint smile. "It is my deal, not yours."

Marian bit her lip, and Guy could see she wanted to say more, but then she turned away from him. He was happy that she didn't object at least once; he had a clear plan of action, and nothing could sway him from his course. After the final betrayal, he had to kill Vaisey, and the sheriff's death was the only thing that mattered at that moment.

In stunned terror, Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine couldn't tear her eyes from Prince John's face, so shocked was she by the news that she couldn't speak and move; her heart collapsed in pain in her chest. At the sight of his mother's white face and shocked expression, Prince John smiled contently, his blue eyes cold and hard; he was enjoying her distress and grief.

"John, you are not lying, are you?" Queen Eleanor asked, sending a harsh glance to the prince.

Prince John broke into a merry laughter. "Oh, my dear mother, are you saddened? What a tragedy! Robin Hood is dead!" A satisfied smile curved his lips. "Richard must be biting his nails in grief. He was so devoted to Hood."

Eleanor averted her gaze. "How did it happen?" she muttered a constricted tone.

A ludicrous expression on his features, John stared at her. "Oh, mother, you want to know? Why are you so curious?" he exclaimed in angry accents. "Good God! You have never loved me! You care for Hood more than you have ever cared for me, your flesh and blood!"

The queen ignored John's outburst of hatred for her. "Melisende is with child, isn't she?"

"Yes, Melisende is carrying Robin Hood's child," John answered. "This is the only reason why I allow Roger de Lacy to remain an overlord of Hood's lands."

Queen Eleanor nodded. Her heart was tearing apart in pain. The only consolation was that Melisende would have Robin's child, his flesh and blood; it was good that she arranged a marriage for Robin. She had lost so many children, and it appeared that she had lost Robin as well; now she was also afraid that John had killed Richard. She regretted that she hadn't told Robin the truth about his birth. At least many Poitevin lords and barons would undoubtedly blame John for Robin's death and would now never side with him, at least until Richard's death; the threat of rebellion against Richard in Aquitaine was over. Eleanor had no doubt that all those vassals would swear their fealty to Robin's child.

Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine glared at Prince John. "Robin of Locksley was loyal to Richard, and they were friends. He sacrificed his life to save Richard, and I am mourning for him." She inferred that John hadn't learnt about her true relationship with Robin yet. If he had known the truth, he would have been very happy, taunting her with venomous remarks.

John stiffened. "Again Richard! Have you ever loved me at least a little, mother?"

"Stop being a child, John," the queen snapped. "When did Robin of Locksley die?"

"A few months ago," John said, smirking. "I wonder why Richard didn't write to you about that."

The Queen Mother watched her youngest son carefully, her eyes looking into his naughty eyes. "Your minions again tried to take Richard's life, didn't they?"

Sheriff Vaisey approached them from the back. He bowed to the queen and the prince.

John's mouth thinned and something dangerous moved in his blue eyes. "Mother, you know that my father, God rest his soul, wanted me to be King of England, not Richard. That was his wish. And I will be... soon." He took a deep breath. "My father taught me to surround myself only with the most loyal vassals, with those who love me." He stared at the sheriff. "Lord Vaisey, do you love me?"

Vaisey bowed deeply. "La di da di da! I have always loved you and only you, my king."

Eleanor's eyes darted between John and the sheriff, and then she gazed at the prince. "You again attempted to assassinate your own brother, your king!" she said in a voice shaking with rage, her eyes full of disdain. "Richard is alive, but Robin of Locksley died for him! You don't even know what you did!"

"Don't teach me what to do, mother! You never loved me! Father loved me, not you!" Prince John shot back, outraged. "I don't care that Robin of Locksley died, though I have to say that his death was not what I wanted after his marriage to Melisende." He gave Vaisey a furious glance, but then his face regained satisfied expression.

Eleanor arched a brow. "John, you take a great pleasure in killing your brother's loyal men, don't you?"

John fleered. "You are right, mother. I would love to eradicate all Richard's supporters."

"Richard is a better man than you, John. He never wished you dead and he never tried to kill any of his brothers." With malevolent, narrowed eyes, Queen Eleanor stared at Prince John, disgusted at the thought that Robin had died for Richard and that Richard's life had been again in danger. Her heart was bleeding like a large open wound; it was broken at the thought that the man she wished to protect so much, the very man who saved England, was now dead because of his own power-hungry half-brother.

Eleanor was aware that the king had made peace with Saladin as Richard had dispatched a messenger to her. Richard must have already left Acre, but she knew nothing else and wondered where her eldest surviving son was. She believed that Richard didn't write to her as he probably wished to deliver the grave news in person or through Melisende who must have been on her way to Aquitaine together or separately from the king. The realization dawned upon her that she had departed from Aquitaine shortly before Melisende could have arrived there, so they had missed each other. She only hoped that Melisende wouldn't come to England and would hide herself from Prince John at least until the birth of her child.

Eleanor glared at John. "Richard," she said. "Where is Richard?"

Prince John smiled grimly. "Don't worry, mother. He will be fine," he said icily.

"Where is Richard?" Eleanor repeated.

"Don't wait for Richard at home soon," Prince John said, with a feral grin blossoming on his face.

"Your Grace, don't worry about King Richard," Vaisey nearly sang. "He will be taken care of."

The queen was nervously biting her bottom lip. "I cannot believe in what I hear."

John flashed a brilliant smile. "Have you lost your wits, mother? What happened to you?"

Eleanor chuckled darkly. "I am most pleased, John. I gave birth to a passionate brood of snakes."

"Very well," John replied with a laugh. "If you have nothing else to say, I have another surprise for you." He turned his gaze at Vaisey. "The Queen Mother is under house arrest. Take her to Pontefract Castle under a heavy guard. Be attentive to her, for I know that she is a resourceful woman and can do many tricks to flee."

"Sire, I swear everything will be as you wish," Vaisey pledged.

"I hope so," John said, looking at the queen. "I made a good choice of your prison, mother. After all, Pontefract is not a new place for you, and you will love to spend more time there," he told her.

The sheriff snapped his fingers, and at least a dozen of guards walked towards them. Queen Eleanor stared at the guards for a long moment, only shaking her head. The guardsmen looked wordlessly at Vaisey who sneered at the queen and then nodded at his men.

"Mother, you should go," Prince John said impatiently, casting haphazard, heated glances at Isabella of Gisborne. "If you have a chance to pass my blessings and good wishes to Richard, write to him that I am a good son who keeps you safe only for him."

Vaisey smiled. "Sire, I love you and I love your mother. I promise that that Her Grace will be very, very safe, far from any kind of danger." He smirked. "After all, there are many infections in the air, and isolation will save your mother's life."

John laughed. "Lord Vaisey, you are such a loyal subject that I can even forgive you for _some sins_." He chuckled. "I am fed up with my brother. This cat-and-mouse game with him is wearing my patience thin, but it will soon be finished."

Eleanor stiffened, her eyes darkening. "John, your ambitions for the throne are driving you astray."

"I am sick of your old drill about my rights for the throne, mother," Prince John snapped.

At that moment, Isabella approached Prince John. "Your Grace," she murmured as she curtsied to the Queen Mother, holding her skirts daintily. She smiled as Eleanor permitted her to rise from her curtsey.

Queen Eleanor smiled. "Go, John, go. Don't waste time," she encouraged. "A young lady is waiting for you." She chuckled. "Young lovers often believe that they have discovered the secret of the ages, which was revealed to them alone. Ah, that is the miracle of youth and learning." Her voice was decidedly taunting, her eyes gleaming with barely discernible mocking laughter. "But we all delude ourselves in youth. The same is with babymaking, and nobody knows these joys better than our most beloved Prince John, and he doesn't need to worry about other trifles."

Prince John blinked, not knowing what to say in the response to his mother's unprecedented irony. He hated that she had always won their verbal battles of wit. His displeasure grew into the first stirrings of panic, and he coughed, trying to pull his thoughts together.

"Ah, my dear mother, I am going to show you what laughter does to all of us," John replied, his lips lengthening in a sardonic smile. "Father did the right thing when he made sure that you laughed alone in your prison throughout so many years. I am just taking an example from him."

Eleanor granted him a dazzling smile. "Of course, son. Laughing hard is such a trifle."

The sheriff sneered at the sardonic duel between the prince and the queen. Isabella, however, cringed, for the Plantagenets' demonstration of fake delight made her feel like an outsider.

Prince John smiled at Queen Eleanor and bowed. Taking Isabella's hand, he led her to the castle doors, where he stopped for a brief moment; Isabella stood at his right hand. "Mother, enjoy your time in solitude and thrive like a fading flower." Then he bowed again and Isabella sank into a curtsey.

As the prince and his mistress disappeared inside the castle, the Queen Mother said that she needed a moment in privacy with her ladies. She leaned her head to Lady Megan Bennet. "Megan, you should leave," the queen whispered into Megan's ear.

Megan looked amazed. "Your Grace, I cannot leave you!"

Eleanor took her small hand in hers. "You are from Nottingham, right?"

The young lady shook her head. "I was born in Nottingham. My father lives here."

"Leave and stay with your father. Then find Roger de Lacy by any means," Eleanor requested.

Megan looked shocked. "But they want to deliver you to Pontefract! This is de Lacy's castle!"

"There is no way Roger de Lacy could have betrayed Richard. I think that John dispossessed him of some castles, if not of everything," the queen voiced her opinion.

Megan blanched. "Sir Robin of Locksley is dead… Whom can we trust?"

Eleanor shook her head. "I don't believe that Robin is dead."

"But they said that he had been murdered by Guy of Gisborne."

"John can say many things."

She blinked her eyes. "Your Grace, you think that… Prince John is lying?"

"I don't know, Meg. I don't know." Eleanor's eyes were full of anguish before turning blank. "_I don't feel that Robin is dead._" She put a gloved hand on her bosom, pressing it to her heart.

"I will do everything I can," Megan promised. "I will find Roger de Lacy and will try to contact someone of King Richard's loyal men."

Queen Eleanor smiled. "Meg, we need you alive." She took the girl's hands in hers in a gesture of spontaneous friendly affection. "Trust nobody – only yourself. Be very attentive and accurate."

"Your Grace, I will be very careful," Megan murmured. Her heart was heavy that she was going to leave her mistress whom she loved so much, and fear gripped her as she added in a voice that was barely a whisper, "But I fear Prince John may do something to you like he did to King Richard."

"John may try to kill Richard, but he can do nothing to me," Eleanor whispered grimly. "He can imprison me forever. He can put me in a damp, cold cell. He can do many things to me." She sighed. "But he will never order to kill me. This I know for sure."

"I pray you will be alright," Megan said with a note of worry.

The Queen Mother smiled gently. "You are my favorite lady, and I care for you deeply." Her smile was almost maternal. "I loved your mother when she was my lady-in-waiting and my confident so long ago, and your father is Richard's close friend. We cannot lose you, and you must be very careful."

"I will," Megan repeated her promise. "But I swear I will do everything to find King Richard and release you from the prison, even if I have to die to win this battle."

Eleanor sighed sorrowfully. "I hope it will never come to that."

"Oh, Madame! Sir Robin was so loyal to our king! He would have saved you!"

The Queen Mother's flashed a glance at the guards. "Megan, we don't have time. Try to leave before the crowd disperses."

A discreet cough came from behind her, and the queen turned to find Sheriff Vaisey standing near her and smiling at her. "Your Grace, I have to interrupt your little… private chat." He raised his eyes to the sky. "It is going to rain. The fresh air will be cool and probably bad for Your Grace's health. I pledged to keep you safe, and I cannot let you catch cold or spoil your queenly skin."

"I am not a lady to be put off by a little wet weather if there is a task I need to do," the queen retorted with a smile. "I want to thank you, Lord Vaisey, for your hospitality and forbearance, which are so much appreciated by me."

"Your Grace, the carriage is ready." Blamire bowed low to the queen, with a small smile remaining in place on his dark-skinned face. He was Vaisey's newly appointed captain of the guards.

The guards surrounded Queen Eleanor and her ladies. Eleanor uttered no word, her eyes narrowing as she looked from the sheriff to the guards; she flicked an elegant hand in dismissal, signaling that she was ready to go. As they descended the front steps and their feet stepped on the pavement, the crowd ahead of them parted, opening a lane to where the carriage was waiting for the captive Queen Eleanor. Using her chance, Lady Megan Bennet escaped and mingled with the crowd, quickening her footsteps as she walked away from the central square and the castle.

Megan looked around, thinking that she had probably never seen in Nottingham as many people as today. She had spent her childhood and most of her adulthood at the court in Aquitaine, and Nottingham was a foreign place she didn't like at all. English language sounded unusual and strange to her ears because she was accustomed to speak Norman-French and Occitan and much more rarely English; nevertheless, her English was impeccable and without any accent.

"I have to find the king's loyal men," Megan told to herself as she was slowly making her way through the crowd. "I have to save the king and the queen."

Guy, Marian, Allan, Little John, and Much were slowly making their way through the crowd of angry people. At the sight of the infuriated peasants blinded with bloodlust, Guy intuitively retreated back from the central square, and the others followed him. Blamire shouted Vaisey's orders to free the square, and the crowd was moving purposefully. The people were still shocked by Prince John's announcement about Robin's death, and many of them cursed Guy of Gisborne. The villagers of Locksley were very bloodthirsty and frantically demanded Guy's blood.

Much cocked a derisive eyebrow, his suspicions fully aroused. "Gisborne, you were accused of killing Bridget and Thornton. Did you kill them? Why did you do that?"

Little John stared at Guy in horror. Allan only shrugged, preferring not to interfere.

"I didn't kill them," Guy said sincerely. "Someone else did. It is a strange murder."

"I don't believe you," Much stated.

"I swear upon my soul," Guy avouched.

"Guy tells you the truth – he is not guilty of this murder. Someone killed Bridget and Thornton in front of us with a shot of deadly accuracy, so much like Robin's. The culprit wasn't identified," Marian proceeded to explain in haste. "Maybe it was one of the sheriff's tricks."

"They were killed from a bow!" Much exclaimed in amazement. "Nobody can shoot like Robin."

"Hmm," Guy muttered thoughtfully. "I know two other men who can shoot like Hood." A sigh tumbled from his lips. "They are Malcolm of Locksley and Archer, Prince John's assassin."

"Archer?" Marian asked levelly.

"Yes. He possesses unparalleled archery skills, exactly like Robin's," Guy confirmed with a sour laugh. "Even his name suits him."

"Robin's father was a marksman too," Much said exuberantly, nodding his head several times. "But he is dead, and Archer was on our side in Imuiz."

Little John shot all of them a nervous glance. "It is so odd."

"Mates, it is just another one of many sheriff's games." Amusement warred with chagrin in Allan's breast as he wondered who had killed the servants in Locksley.

"Suppose I believe that Gisborne didn't kill Thornton and Bridget," Much retorted. "But it doesn't change anything – he is a murderer and a traitor."

"Much, shut up," Marian said between set teeth.

"Stop arguing, mates," Allan said.

Marian was overwhelmed with hot anger. She wanted the sheriff's blood. She wanted the man dead. Her forehead furrowed, her sapphire eyes blazing in anger, she glanced at Guy. "The sheriff is the vilest man I had ever seen." She gritted her teeth, her fists clenched. "I hate Vaisey! I hate him for murdering Robin! I hate him for corrupting and humiliating you during so many years! I hate him for my father's death! I hate him for disgracing your name after you switched sides!"

"Calm down, Marian." Guy eyed her in amazement. He had never seen Marian so angry. She was like a tigress ready to attack her victim on the spot.

"I cannot calm down! I just cannot!" Marian protested.

Guy gripped her hand. "Marian, you will stay with Allan, Much, and John. I will also be with you. Don't even dare leave and try to find the sheriff."

She raised a brow. "You don't trust me, do you?"

He shook his head. "I just want you to be careful."

When Marian. Guy and the others stood behind one of the buildings facing the castle, a violent roar of angry voices broke out as the passing people spoke about Guy even in harsher tones than they had heard before. Guy put a brave face on his irritation and terror as he set his shoulders and wove his way through the crowd, though inside he was seething with anger mingled with dread.

"Guy, tell me who killed Bridget and Thornton," Allan requested when Guy and he found themselves not so close to the others.

Guy looked hurt. "I am labeled the murderer of Robin Hood, Bridget, and Thornton and of many other people. What other lies will they make up about me?"

"I believe you, Guy. I don't think that you killed them," Allan said with a reassuring smile. "Much and Little John will come around. It will be alright over time."

Guy smiled. "Thank you." His eyes glittered in the dull gray light of the day.

"I am not being funny, but Vaisey's tricks are very dirty. It is really dangerous for you to say in Nottingham," Allan opined.

"We will soon be out of this." Guy gripped Allan's forearm and glanced into his eyes. "Take care of Marian. If something happens to her, you will answer to me with your life."

Allan's face fell. "And you? What are you gonna do?"

"It is my business," Guy growled.

Allan blinked, amusement flitting across his features, but Guy was already gone. His eyes frantically wandering around in search for Guy, Allan shuddered at the wild guess of why Guy had left. Already tired, hungry and angrily apprehensive, Allan was thoroughly miserable as the rain was gradually soaking through his clothing.

§§§

Ignoring drizzling rain and the crowds of people on his way to the Castle of Nottingham, Guy was moving forward aggressively, anonymous among the crowd. He had a purpose – to sneak into the castle and find Vaisey. Guy was full of hatred. He could think only about revenge. The sheriff would die at his hand. Vaisey would pay for the disgrace of Guy's mother in the eyes of King Henry, Guy's humiliation throughout many years, the two regicide attempts on King Richard's life, Robin's tragic death, and for the deaths of so many innocent people whom he had tortured and murdered.

Meanwhile, Lady Megan Bennet was lost in the large crowd, trying to vanish from the square as a shadow, for she couldn't attract attention to herself. She was smiling at the people around, her head high, her posture almost regal as she was moving through the sea of the townspeople. Many men smiled and winked at her, letting her go ahead. The crowd parted willingly, freeing the way for her.

Megan's mind was reeling. She regretted that Robin of Locksley was dead. She had met him when Robin had lived at the court in Poitiers during Richard's final rebellion against his father; at that time, she had been a very young girl and hadn't interacted much with Robin. When Robin had spent several weeks at the court on the way from Acre to England, she had watched him entertaining on feasts in the company of the Queen Mother's ladies-in-waiting. She had also met him during Eleanor's private dinners organized especially for Robin, which puzzled Megan as the queen had always seemed to be besotted with the young Crusader hero, like Robin had always been besotted with King Richard. Megan had also heard countless stories about Robin's bravery, valor, and heroism in the Holy Land and in the forest from Queen Eleanor herself, as well as from other courtiers who had always openly admired the young Earl of Huntingdon.

The fact that Guy of Gisborne had killed Robin made Megan feel uneasy. She had seen Gisborne before only once at the court in London when Queen Eleanor had visited Prince John in King Richard's absence in England. As the gossip about Vaisey's arrival in London had reached Eleanor, she had retired to her chambers and had never appeared in public again while Vaisey had been there; the Queen Mother had always despised Vaisey and all his men, including Guy.

Thus, Megan hadn't been given a chance even to look attentively at Guy; she only knew that the man was evil, wore black leather, and that he had taken possession of the Locksley estates after Robin's return from the Crusade. Later, when Eleanor and her entourage had returned to Aquitaine, Megan had often listened to Queen Eleanor's talks about Guy: the queen's opinion had always been unpleasant, but the old lady had obviously been interested in Guy. Somehow, Megan was mystified by Guy only by listening to the tales of Queen Eleanor and many courtiers.

As Megan reached the opposite side of the square, something strange happened. Prince John's guards shouted the commands to part the way and step aside from the road that led to the castle. The people grumbled and whispered, their expressions curious and peculiar, but they obeyed and freed the way. Someone important from Prince John's entourage was expected to arrive in Nottingham.

Numerous armed men in blue-and-black uniform galloped along the road, followed by the prince's soldiers and then again by the men in blue-and-black colors. Then the carriage passed by Megan, drawn by six horses. Under the drizzling rain, the carriage and the horses advanced over road covered with veritable seas of mud. The road had already been churned up by the wheels of carriages and hooves of horses which had traveled there before; the passage of the new party promised to make further movement on the road impossible.

Megan stiffened as she recognized the extravagant carriage that was so often spoken about by the courtiers and even the common people in London. It was the Earl of Buckingham's carriage, and the men in blue-and-black uniform were the earl's personal guards.

The carriage with the Earl of Buckingham stopped near the fronts steps. A lackey opened the door of the carriage, and Buckingham stepped out into the street. As if it were not raining, he strode towards the steps, dressed in a luxurious cape of heavy satin and velvet. As the earl climbed the stairs, his armed men followed him, and then Prince John appeared in front of him. Buckingham sank to one knee and bowed his head in accordance with the royal protocol, but John dismissed him from his bow and scooped him into his arms.

Megan was intrigued and a little frightened as she had never liked the Earl of Buckingham, wondering what the man was doing in Nottingham. When she had been with the Queen Mother in her chambers in the castle, she hadn't heard that the prince had been waiting for him. Whatever the man planned to do in Nottingham, it meant nothing good for Queen Eleanor and King Richard because he was the Black Knight and had already tried to kill their liege. She considered Buckingham Prince John's puppet and debauchee, who had countless wanton love affairs at the court and was rumored to invite whores to his mansion in London every weekend. She also knew that the Earl of Buckingham was an excellent statesman, a fine judge of horses, and a gambler as well.

Hiding under the voluminous folds of her warm velvet cloak, Megan slipped out of the crowd unnoticed. She looked around, her eyes frantically ordering everyone to free the path. She needed to perish from the central courtyard and reach her father's manor located in the western part of Nottingham. Wherever she looked, her gaze fell on the unimaginable tangle of coaches and horses and Prince John's armed men.

"I will never get out of here," Megan groaned, turning to the man who stood beside her.

The man looked like a hooligan. He eyed Megan in adoration, his eyes taking in her expensive cloak and jewelry. He understood that she wasn't a usual girl but most likely a daughter of a rich nobleman. He thought that the lady was stunningly beautiful and could easily imagine her sitting at the feast in the castle and even at the royal court. She wore expensive things, and he needed money; he also wanted her as a woman because she was beautiful.

The man approached Megan and poked her with his hand. "Don't argue with fate, dear," he said gaily. "Even the longest journey has an end. Are you trying to find me?"

"What do you want?" Megan asked. Her voice was both angry and desperate.

The thief smiled menacingly. "I want your jewelry and money you have in your purse, my beauty."

"Leave me alone," Megan hissed, looking into the man's eyes.

The man only laughed at her. "Huh, my girl, you are such a beauty, but you are so rude," he said, glaring at her. "I imagine how good you are in a bed, lass."

Megan gave a haughty laugh, although she felt a lump forming in her throat. "You are a very badly mannered man. Didn't your parents teach you how to treat ladies?"

"I will be perfectly happy to become your pupil, sweetheart," the thief cut in, much to Megan's surprise. Megan shot him a furious glance, and the naughty man laughed at her. "I have no doubt that you will be like a storm in a bed. I don't have other pursuits, not of your kind." He made a step towards her. "But you are so lovely, my beauty. You are a spirited and intemperate girl." He grabbed her sleeve. "Give me your jewelry and come with me to the closest inn."

Megan gritted her teeth. "I am not letting any filthy man put his paws on me," she replied between the clenched teeth as she pushed the man away from her.

Megan was angry, so angry she could scarcely endure that. She threw herself at the man, suddenly, in such rage that she managed to catch him with a hard slap across his face. He cursed, catching her arms and shaking her. The thief tried to hit her in the face, but she twisted out of his grasp and slapped him again. Then she stepped backwards, while the thief stood rooted, glaring at her in hatred.

The people gasped in horror. The thief extracted a knife from his pocket, bellowed in rage, and attacked the lady. But Megan jumped aside and punched the man hard in his chest, then spat into his face and slapped him. He cursed and again advanced forward at Megan, but then someone pushed him aside from her and punched him into the stomach. It was Guy who interfered into the conflict between the lady and the thief. With a cry of pain, the thief fell to his knees, and Guy sprang on him from behind, wrapping his hands around his opponent's throat.

Looking at the miserable man on the ground, Guy drew his sword, pointing its tip at the thief. "Go away, you coward," he commanded, his eyes darkening with rage. He had never been able to watch young ladies abused and harassed by criminals. "Only low men and cowards harass women like you do. Leave before you regret that you tried to hit her."

The thief laughed. "Are you gonna order me what to do?"

"I will kill you if you don't leave now," Guy said seriously. He straightened his spine and stepped away from the thief, his sword still unsheathed. Then he put his arm around Megan to keep her from falling. "I won't allow you to hurt this lady," he added, staring at the criminal.

Everyone in the crowd stared at Megan, Guy, and the thief. The people feared to interfere, hoping that Prince John's guards would come and solve the matter. They didn't recognize Guy in the lady's savior, for Guy's appearance had changed too much in the past months.

"You are the son of a whore," the thief shouted as he got to his feet.

Guy smiled at Megan and stepped forward. The insult, which was so close to the truth, made his blood boil. He smashed his fist into the man's face. The thief stumbled back, bellowing in pain. The crowd stood, watching the two men in a silence, as if they were mesmerized.

The thief looked between Guy and Megan, his vision blurred. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand, and a trickle of blood flowed from his mouth. He looked shocked at the sight of blood on his hands. Then he groaned in pain and collapsed on the ground unconscious.

"Sweet Jesus, are you going to get yourself killed?" Guy asked, staring at Megan.

Guy gasped as he recognized the woman whom he had just saved. She was the lady-in-waiting whom he had seen near Queen Eleanor on the front steps. As he stood before her, he believed that she was even more stunning than he had thought looking at her from a distance. The young lady was exquisite and graceful. Despite his unwillingness to admit his feelings to himself, Guy felt tremors that had taken hold of him at the sight of her clever, deep blue eyes, her long, slender neck, and her alabaster skin.

Megan regarded Guy. She thought that she had never seen him before. She took in Guy's appearance. His black boots were covered with mud. His eyes glistened with the imps of something lethal, dark, and mysterious. He was unkempt, but still very handsome. He looked like a weary traveler. His tall, imposing figure looked dangerous, his steel blue eyes sparkling like steel of the blade in the bleak sunlight, and she felt danger emanating from him. Yet, the voice in the back of her head told her that his handsome face could hide mysteries of a broken heart. She was physically attracted to him very much.

Megan smiled at him. "You saved me from this madman!"

Guy shook his head. "One day, my lady, your willfulness may kill you."

"Oh, you cannot know that for sure, sire," Megan snapped irritably. She didn't like when people pointed out her that willful nature was a curse rather than a blessing.

"You should stop wandering in the streets when you are dressed like a Queen," he said emphatically, his eyes taking in her appearance. "Go home before you again become a victim of a thief."

Megan came to a dead standstill, angry and offended, but her expression was proud and impenetrable. She nodded only, knowing that his words were true. "Actually, it is a sort of extreme situation even for me. It is the first time when I am almost robbed in the street," she said neutrally.

Guy smirked. "It is unusual to find a woman like you walking in the streets alone and all the more surrounded by the armed men. The point is that your carelessness can make you a victim."

She was becoming angrier, yet trying to maintain a sense of calm and dignity. "I am grateful for your help, but I am not interested in your opinion. I am a grown-up person, and I don't need your guidance."

Guy let out a short laugh. "You are a willful and independent lady," he declared, the corners of his lips aching in a tiny smile. "But I wonder what the Queen Mother's lady-in-waiting is doing here?"

Her deep blue eyes met his cold gaze without a flinch. She felt her fingers curl into fists and forced herself to unclench them. "How do you know who I am?" She was frightened, but she managed to mask her fear and anxiety with coldness.

"It is easy to guess," he replied quietly as he turned toward the front steps of the castle. He jerked his head towards Buckingham's carriage. "Look who is currently visiting Nottingham."

As he uttered those words, Megan looked at the queen's carriage, thinking of the unfortunate old lady who had been imprisoned at the order of her own son. "Well, today is truly an unusual day."

Guy caught the direction of her gaze. His uneasy feeling increased, for he was sure that she was Queen Eleanor's lady-in-waiting. "I am not your enemy, whatever happened to you in the castle," he said in soothing tones. He realized that she was probably scared as he discovered her true allegiances.

Megan sighed, and her lashes fell. She closed her eyes, trying to regain her composure. Then she opened her eyes and stared at Guy, knowing that she wasn't looking at him in the most disconcerted and distraught way because she could put on a show of pretence without the effort. "And why should I believe you?" she inquired, her voice cold.

"I am not your enemy," Guy repeated.

"How can I know that?" she challenged.

"You don't believe me, do you?"

"No, I don't."

Guy sighed. "Actually, you are right, my lady." He hung his head; the pelting and soul-shredding guilt for all his wrongdoings was grinding in his chest. His expression changed into a cameo of sadness and sorrow. "You have no reason to believe me, and neither has anyone else."

Megan had always been the one who understood human nature better than other young women; Melisende, with whom Megan had grown at the court in Aquitaine, had once told her that they both possessed a rare talent to understand even subtle changes in one's personality. Now she clearly saw that the handsome stranger was the man whose heart was tearing apart in shame, pain, and grief. She didn't know what had happened to him, but she felt that it was something really horrible.

"Are you alright?" Megan asked in an unnaturally soft voice. "Perhaps, I may somehow help you."

He lifted his eyes at her, smiling wickedly. "My lady, are you going to save me from another thief or murderous criminal?" His gaze wondered to the unconscious man on the ground; he curled his mouth in a wry smile. "Or maybe you will save me from the same man who attacked you?"

She blinked. "And why can I not save you?"

"Well, perhaps you can, but definitely not now," he said teasingly. "You are dressed like a courtier, and you even don't have a dagger."

His words angered Megan. Her elegant features were twisted in anger for an instant, and it was an unusual occurrence. "If I am a lady, it doesn't mean that I cannot take care of myself." She scoffed. "Maybe I need to be saved from you, my lord? After all, we have just heard the announcement that the most dangerous criminal in England – the murderer of Robin Hood – hasn't been captured yet."

Megan wanted to mock Guy by comparing him to Guy of Gisborne, and she definitely didn't know how deadly her venomous remark had landed. Had she known the truth, she wouldn't have even tried to involve Guy into a mocking duel as she often did with those who interested her and who infuriated her; Guy was exactly the man who fell into this category.

Guy clenched his jaw tightly, so tightly that it gave the appearance of chiselled ice. He took a step towards her, towering dangerously over her. "You know nothing about me, my lady. Perhaps I am indeed a dangerous criminal. Who knows?" An evil sneer crossed his lips as he gazed into her eyes. "Maybe you indeed need to be more cautious with strangers in the street."

Megan realized that she had crossed the line. "I just don't like when men dictate to us, women, what to do and what not to do." She made an effort to make her voice sound softer. "And I don't like when men make nasty remarks about women's inability to do this or that."

"You are too independent," was Guy's only response.

"Yes, and I am not dying of shame to say that aloud," she declared.

For whatever reason, Guy couldn't be angry with her. Instead, he smiled at the feisty girl whom he actually liked. "Go home and be careful."

"Indeed, I must go now," Megan said as she stared at him straight in the eye. "I am grateful that you were here. You saved me from being robbed. You saved my life as well."

Guy gave her a wan smile. "Welcome, my lady."

Megan gave him a dazzling smile. "I thank you for your help, but I am still inclined not to talk to someone who openly questions my independency and my ability to survive a small incident." She tilted her head to one side. "I will better lift my hand and slap such a man across his impudent face."

Guy turned his gaze at the thief who still lay unconscious on the ground. "Perhaps, I should have let that thief to deal with you. Then you wouldn't have been so witty and so venomous."

Anger gripped Megan's heart. "How dare you tell me that? How dare you be so rude to me?"

He realized his mistake, feeling genuinely sorry that he had probably offended her. "I beg my pardon. I shouldn't have said that." He let out a slow, measured breath and closed his eyes for an instant; then he spoke a very gentle voice. "And if I have to take my sword and kill that thief or anyone else to protect you or any other innocent woman, I will do that."

She granted him a confused look. "Could you really kill him?"

"Yes, I could," Guy answered softly, "if I had to save you."

She didn't like when someone spoke about killing, but she had served Queen Eleanor for some time and had already learnt what royals can do to unwanted people or to their enemies. She would never forget that the queen had poisoned all of Prince John's spies who had learnt her secret about the existence of the golden boy. She had killed only one man in her life when he had tried to rape her in one of local taverns in Aquitaine where she had gone to spy on one of King Richard's enemies at Queen Eleanor's order; she had murdered that man with a dagger, and it had been a shock for her, but she had quickly recovered from it, to her complete astonishment.

She let out a small smile. "Thank you for your protection. I am really touched."

Guy sighed. "If I have to kill a criminal to save an innocent woman, I can kill anyone."

"Certainly not everyone – not our king."

Guy gave her a bleak smile. "Of course not." He would have never tried to kill the king again.

Megan smiled. "I am sorry, but I have to leave, sire. I wish you to have a good evening and not to save any other unfortunate lady from a thief." Then she strode forward and meddled with the crowd.

Guy watched the lady disappear in the crowd. Unexpectedly for himself, he laughed delightedly. He was greatly impressed by the lady, trying to guess who she was. He only knew that she was the same lady whom he had spotted near Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine. The Queen Mother had many ladies-in-waiting, but this one was unique. Something made him feel that she was an important person for Queen Eleanor. Maybe she was her confident and even friend, he mused.

"Yeah, what a spirited lady!" Guy said to himself, and there was a large smile on his face.

The lady was definitely a free-spirited, fiery, and passionate soul. She welcomed to be as headstrong, willful, stubborn, adventurous, and wretched as she chose. She seemed to accept the situation in the street, in which she had found herself, in her own way. She clearly had a bright, inquisitive mind, and a great intelligence. She also had a stubborn streak within her that stretched for acres. He guessed that she was a spoiled child in her family, but she was also humored greatly and was compassionate enough to the people. He could see her teasing every man, had her way, and then rejected them all.

For his part, Guy was determined not to fight with the girl at the beginning, but her self-assurance and willfulness somehow angered him. It was difficult enough for him to be in Nottingham, and then he unexpectedly saw the young lady harassed by a street thief. He rushed to save the foolish girl from what the man could have done to her, and it appeared that he had come on time.

The shouts of Prince John's guards snapped Guy out of his thoughts. Four guards in chainmail and pointed helmets, spears in their hands, stood blocking the path to the road where the Earl of Buckingham's carriage had just passed. Blamire came to them, nodding towards the guards; he was followed by at least ten men, some of whom were Guy's former man.

In the next moment, Queen Eleanor's grand carriage appeared on the road. The front of the carriage was decorated with paintings of a golden lion on a plain-red background – the coat of arms of Aquitaine. The carriage was surrounded by at least thirty armed men who served in Prince John's Elite Guard.

The Queen Mother's carriage passed by the place where Guy stood. He cursed under his breath as he watched Queen Eleanor seat inside the carriage with some of her ladies, their faces somber. He had already understood that the prince had ordered to arrest Eleanor and imprison her. His mind floated to the lady whom he had just saved from the thief, and he wondered how one of the queen's ladies had managed to escape. He hoped that she would be able to get away from the prince's guards and contact someone of King Richard's loyal men.

The carriage and its escort party drove onto a lane that faced the central square and headed to the gates of Nottingham. Even in spite of being wet to their bones, the people watched the departure of the Queen Mother and her entourage, standing along the road. Never before had the people seen such beautifully made carriages in the streets of Nottingham. The carriages of the Earl of Buckingham and Queen Eleanor were the objects of great magnificence and fascination.

Guy looked around, thinking that the town was even more crowded than they had initially thought. There seemed to be hundreds of Prince John's guards and the town folks crowded in the streets and on the central square. He had to leave the courtyard and get into the castle, Guy reminded himself. Soon Vaisey would pay for all his crimes and betrayals, Guy took a silent oath. The sheriff was doomed to die today. Guy of Gisborne would kill the mighty Sheriff Vaisey of Nottingham.

* * *

><p><em>I hope you truly enjoyed this chapter and the plot.<em>

_Robin fans should be very happy because Robin Hood is alive and is not going to die. Robin regained his consciousness, but his life is still in danger because he is feverish and his wound is still infected. As you see, there were some complications preventing his recovery: Djaq and Prince Malik's physician had to cut open the wound twice and remove the infected flesh. I introduced this twist not because I want to make Robin suffer: I needed our hero to be sick for many weeks, during the months while Guy, Marian, and others traveled to England from Acre._

_Indeed, Robin died in Imuiz, but he came back to life: let's assume that he had a clinical death as we call it in a modern language. According to my research, the Saracens, who had quite a progressive healthcare, called phenomenon of a temporary death "a semblance of death". Robin will recover, but it will take much time for him to be as healthy as he was before the regicide attempt in Acre. _

_Please be aware that Robin is going to be quite a different man because of the effect his death had on him – I am going to develop Robin's disillusionment arc in the next chapters. Robin's disillusionment storyline is devoted to **jadey36** who gave me tons of valuable advice about some twists. I have to confess that Robin's disillusionment was a harder thing to write about than Guy's redemption was._

_Guy, Marian, and the others returned to Nottingham and had to face the unprecedented surprise Sheriff Vaisey and Isabella prepared for Guy. Robin is married to Melisende, the cousin of King Richard and Prince John, and it is logical that the murder of Robin in regicide attempt caused displeasure of many English and Poitevin lords. Robin's death is not beneficial to Prince John at this stage, but the sheriff believes that he killed Robin. So they needed a scapegoat and they chose Guy who betrayed Prince John and the Black Knights and swore his fealty to King Richard. Vaisey never forgives betrayal._

_I hope you liked the introduction of Megan Bennet in the storyline. Her portrayal in this story/novel is very different from the one we had on the show: Meg is more mature and more intelligent, but she is as brave and feisty as she was on the show. Meg has a very interesting and original background – she is Queen Eleanor's confident and lady-in-waiting. She grew up at the royal court in Poitiers and received impeccable education there, so she is very different from many undereducated and simple English country girls and even ladies at the English court. I hope you liked Meg's first meeting with Guy when Guy became her savior in the street. _

_Meg's storyline is devoted to **funnygirl00** who encouraged me to write about this lady and who gave me some good advice._

_In the next chapter, there should be the culmination of Guy's confrontation with the sheriff in England. _

_There are also some surprises, and I want to ask you to be prepared for some shocking twists. The Earl of Buckingham didn't arrive in Nottingham to drink for Prince John's health – he has a special purpose for his visit._

**_Reviews are always appreciated, including well-grounded criticism._**

_If you find any typos and/or mistakes here, please let me know about them in a private message. _

_Thank you for reading this chapter. Have a lovely weekend._

_Yours faithfully, Penelope Clemence_


	14. Chapter 13 Vengeance

**Chapter 13**

**Vengeance**

Walking through the labyrinth of streets, Megan was thinking about the man who had saved her life half an hour ago. She was affected by their meeting, even though it sounded absurd because she didn't even know his name. He was handsome, powerfully built and strong, and he had a dark charm that made every woman shiver with delight mingled with fear when he walked into a room. She was intrigued by his strange personality and magnetized by the deadly, dark aura around him. The man was dangerous, but it attracted her to him ever more. She had always loved dangerous thrill and often courted danger deliberately, as if she were craving to contract a disease that can run rampant and lethal. If she had another chance to meet the man, she would be happy.

Megan stopped near the beautiful white-columned manor that crowned the street like a Greek temple and stood prouder than other houses in the neighborhood. It was the Attenborough Manor, the residence of Meg's family in Nottingham. She knocked at the front door and the servant opened it. As the old steward recognized his master's daughter, he immediately bowed deeply and began to fuss over the tired lady. Megan asked whether her father was at home. As she received a nod, she almost jumped in happiness that her father hadn't departed to their estates yet. She ran up the stairs.

She opened the door and entered the softly lighted room. She paused at the doorway, her eyes scanning the room. A fire was burning gently in the huge corner hearth, and she was relieved to finally be in the warmth of the manor after soaking in the rain. There was a large silver decanter of wine and a golden cup on the table near the window. She smiled as her gave fell on her father, Sir Hugh Bennet of Attenborough, who sat at the table loaded with a pile of parchments and books, reading something.

"You have always been an avid reader, Father," Megan began, her heart beating faster.

Hugh raised his eyes from the book and stared at his daughter, his face splashing into a warm smile. "Meg, my dear, I didn't expect you to return from the castle so soon." He rose to his feet, his expression changing into sadness. "Though I think I know why you are already here."

Hugh was a middle-aged man, with expressive blue eyes, broad shoulders, and black curly hair, grizzled on the nape of his head. He was a high-spirited and energetic individual, a handsome aging man with a merry charm. He always had a smile and a kind word for everyone. Yet, he also had the aplomb and manners of a rich courtier after years of successful career at Prince Richard's court and in Richard's army, and he was a good and generous lord who, however, loved his people from a distance stemming from the natural differences in birth and class.

Hugh had been Richard Plantagenet's loyal knight throughout many years. He had retired from the service to Richard in the year of his liege's accession to the throne, at his own request and with Richard's blessing. Them Hugh had moved back to Nottingham whilst Megan had stayed in Aquitaine to finish her education and then serve the Queen Mother. Since Vaisey's arrival in the town, Hugh preferred to live in Attenborough instead of Nottingham in order to avoid meeting with the sheriff whom he deeply despised. Moreover, Hugh was staunchly loyal to Richard and had to keep his true allegiances in secret, but he played his role well and never said a word of disapproval about the sheriff's tyranny in public. Hugh rarely attended the Council of Nobles, always using his poor health as an excuse; he had even spread rumors that he had been suffering from an old war wound, so that nobody could doubt the reasons for his preference to live in his estates in peace.

Megan approached her father, and he pulled her into his arms, happy to see his only surviving child at home. She missed him so much that she almost smothered him in a strong embrace.

"Queen Eleanor has been arrested at Prince John's order, but I escaped," she said as she drew back from her father. "And Sir Robin of Locksley is dead."

Hugh looked distressed. "My steward has already returned from the central square, where Prince John made the announcement about the murder of Sir Robin of Locksley by Sir Guy of Gisborne."

"Yes, it is true. I was there and heard everything."

He twisted his fingers nervously. "I feared that Prince John would arrest the Queen Mother as soon as I heard about her arrival in Nottingham. Obviously, John cannot allow her to be free now."

Megan frowned. "Do you really think that Prince John will try to take the throne?"

"Of course, my lark," Hugh said tiredly. "Prince John is becoming stronger in King Richard's absence."

"So everything is so serious."

"It is more than serious, Meg. John can become King of England."

Megan felt her heart beating faster. "Do you think that Prince John… killed King Richard?"

Hugh shrugged. "Perhaps," he said grimly. "It seems that Vaisey and Gisborne failed to kill the king in Acre, but it is very possible that they succeeded in killing our liege on the way from Acre to England."

"Oh, my God!" she said, shocked. "The king cannot be dead!"

"Meg, you are not a naïve girl, though you are young. You know that John can do everything to seize the throne because he hates Richard and wants him dead." He let out a sigh of grief. "The king should have already arrived home, but nobody knows where he is now."

"Maybe the weather was bad, and the king had to wait for storms to abate."

Hugh settled into a gilded armchair, then folded his arms over his chest. "I don't know what to think," he said grimly. "Many Crusaders have already returned, but there is still no sign of the king."

Megan seated herself into a high-back chair beside him. "What can we do, Father?"

"To be honest, I am utterly at a loss now."

"Oh," she breathed.

There was something else Hugh wanted to ask her. "Did Queen Eleanor tell you something before you escaped? Did she tell you what you should do?"

"Her Grace asked me to find Sir Roger de Lacy, one of the king's most loyal men."

"Ah, Meg!" Hugh exclaimed, his forehead creased in frowns of distress. "I have to disappoint you because we don't know how to find Roger de Lacy." He let out a sigh of frustration. "I haven't heard anything about him, and he hasn't returned to his estates and to Locksley yet."

"He is probably travelling with King Richard," she assumed.

"Then we should wait a little bit."

Megan threw up her hands. "How can we wait, Father? The king disappeared and we must find him! We cannot allow Prince John to overthrow or kill our king! We must stop the prince!"

Hugh surveyed his daughter's lovely face, feeling proud of her loyalty to England and the king. He had always been staunchly loyal to Queen Eleanor and Prince Richard, thinking that treason was the worst thing a man could commit to his country and do to his honor. He loathed everyone who had ever admitted a single thought about committing regicide and plotting in any way against a king or a queen. Yet, even knowing that Guy of Gisborne was the Black Knight and had attempted regicide in Acre, he always tried to justify the young misguided man, for he knew that Guy was Richard's half-brother, although he didn't know anything about Robin's true parentage.

"It is not easy, Meg."

"But we have to do something," she stated with resolution.

"These are very few things we can do," Hugh said, a trace of regret creeping into his voice. "I would have tried to find the king by myself, but I cannot leave England because I am too old and feeble to travel." He sighed. "Once I was young and fought with Prince Richard in all his wars on the continent, but now I am better to stay at home, though I am not suffering from chronic wound as Vaisey thinks."

"How are you feeling now, Father?" she asked with concern.

Hugh gave her a weak smile. "Not as good as I would want, but not as bad as it could be." He sighed. "But now there are more pressing concerns than my health."

Megan nodded. "I won't seat and watch the Black Knights destroy the king and England – I will act."

"Now Prince John and the Black Knights will be desperate," Hugh speculated, his eyes brows raised as his brain was working hard. "The prince's announcement means that the Black Knights failed to assassinate the king in Acre because Sir Robin of Locksley stopped Sir Guy of Gisborne in time and sacrificed his life for our king." He emitted a grievous sigh, his expression morbid. "But I have no doubt that they will try to kill the king again, if they haven't already done that."

Megan jumped to her feet and began pacing the room. In telling her once more that the king's life was in danger, if she had ever doubted the gravity of the situation before, it was brought to her once again by her father. For some time, they didn't speak, and Megan paced, crossing and recrossing the study room, thinking about the ways she could use to understand what moves against King Richard Prince John and the Black Knights were planning to make in the coming months. She and her father felt their nerves shaken at the thought that the king could already be dead.

She stopped pacing and stopped near the hearth, looking at Hugh. "Ah, Father," she said with a dark smile. "Prince John is playing a dirty game, and we have to learn the rules of his game." She winked at him. "Then we will have to play better than anyone else." She laughed. "If you are involved in all these courtly games and weave political plots, you have to follow one important rule – just think and play, try to have some fun, enjoy if you can, never miss opportunities and never allow anyone to outwit and outsmart you."

Hugh looked at Megan in adoration and found himself nodding. He had no doubt that she understood the rules of court life better than other girls of her age, especially country girls.

Megan had grown up at the royal court in Aquitaine, where she had been under a far-reaching influence of literature, poetry, music, and art. Young Prince Richard had called Megan a gifted child and had commanded to place her into Melisende's household, so that she could have benefited from access to the excellent tutors hired for royalty. After Queen Eleanor's release from captivity upon King Henry II's death, Megan had started serving in the queen's household and over time had become her favorite lady-in-waiting. That was good and advantageous, Hugh thought, but it also had a negative implication – his daughter had to place her life in danger when she spied for Queen Eleanor.

Hugh was immensely worried about Megan's safety. He easily guessed what Megan was intending to do in Nottingham – to collect information for Queen Eleanor, to work against Prince John in collaboration with King Richard's loyal men, and to stop the prince at any cost. His daughter's secret life as Queen Eleanor's spy frightened Hugh because he didn't want to lose her, for Prince John was ruthless and pitiless towards his enemies. Yet, he would have never prohibited Megan from helping the king and the queen because she was one of the very few people who could do something against the usurper in shadows. He prayed that Megan would be careful to avoid being discovered and captured.

"And you already have an idea?"

Megan walked with a slow, regal gait, her full hips swaying like a fresh summer breeze. She seated herself beside her father. "I always have a plan," she said. "We will save the king and England."

"Your pretty head has always worked like that of a man," he remarked in awe of her determination and dedication. But then he sighed, thinking that her head could also be her downfall if she wasn't cautious in the process of implementing one of her extravagant and risky plans.

She was silent for a moment as she thought. Then a conspiratorial smile appeared on her face. "I need to have access into the inner sanctum," she said at last.

"Hmm," he grunted. "I have to disappoint you, my dear. I doubt that Prince John will recruit you into the Black Knights Club."

She arched a brow. "Is that so because I am a woman? Oh, I was going to say a lady, of course."

Hugh chuckled. "Do I need to remind you that I have never considered women inferior creatures?"

She smiled cordially. "I know, Father. You are not like many other men who want their wives to stay at home, run a household, obey their orders, and bear their children." She laughed. "Such men don't know that a woman's heart has more secrets than there are stars in the sky. They don't know that women are often more courageous and stronger than men are."

His expression became wistful. "Your mother was a strong and willful woman."

"Do you miss her?" Her voice was very soft, like a whisper on the wind.

His wife Aveline had been the sense of his life, and her death had almost killed him years ago. He had never remarried as nobody could replace her in his heart, and had devoted his life to his daughter and Prince Richard. "Yes," he answered. "She was the only woman whom I have ever loved." He dragged a deep breath; his heart ached for the loss. "She was everything to me."

Megan smiled. Her father always spoke about his deceased wife with reverence, love, and devotion, which made her heart leap in delight. She had never seen her mother who had died in several hours after giving birth to her, and her father's memories were like words of life because deep, almost holy love was melted into them. "I would love to see her at least once in my life."

Hugh smiled back at her. "I am sure that she is watching you from Heaven, Meg."

"Yes, she is."

"Your mother used to say that for a smart woman a man is not a problem – he is a solution."

"I absolutely agree with mother. She was more than a smart woman – she was a true equal of any man," Megan asserted with somber dignity. "A smart woman can see more than others, and she can always get the fulfillment of her most dangerous wishes." Her face lit up with a cunning smile as she locked her gaze with her father's. "And I am a smart lady who already has a plan."

Hugh chuckled. "Are you planning to sneak into the castle and check Lady Isabella of Gisborne's correspondence in nighttime?" he asked. "I bet you may find something interesting from Prince John."

"You are a mind reader, Father," she answered, winking at him.

Hugh cast his eyes down in a sublime impulse of worry. "You must be very careful," he said seriously. "We don't know what is really going on. Guy of Gisborne worked for Sheriff Vaisey, but now he is the most wanted outlaw in England because Prince John doesn't need him anymore."

Megan looked into the flames. "It seems that Prince John learnt about Robin of Lockleys's murder already after the deed was done." Her expression became thoughtful. "But Sir Robin was married to the cousin of both the king and the prince, and Prince John doesn't benefit from his death. Now he can get only severe headaches because nobles of Aquitaine, nearly all of them supporters of King Richard and Queen Eleanor, will openly accuse him of an attempt on the king's life and Sir Robin's murder."

"Yes," her father agreed, heaving a deep sigh. "The nobles of Aquitaine must be shocked with the news about Robin of Locksley's death." He sighed again. "I think his death was accidental rather than planned because he was a brilliant soldier. I doubt that Prince John commanded Vaisey to kill him after his wedding to Lady Melisende Plantagenet."

She shook her head in agreement. "Prince John is much cleverer than he seems at first glance."

"He is a pretender in all senses – he is the fake King of England and the fake Softsword as well."

She nodded. "Undoubtedly."

"Maybe Sir Guy didn't kill Sir Robin," Hugh said, with something bitter stealing unawares into his tone. "He can be a scapegoat in the whole matter, but we cannot say anything for sure."

Her face changed to an expression of utter bewilderment. "What do you mean?"

"Vaisey returned to Nottingham without Gisborne. Maybe it means something."

"Perhaps," she echoed.

Megan and her father shared uneasy glances, tormented by anxiety and misgivings.

"I can always read your mind, Meg," he continued, fixing his eyes on his daughter's face with stern anxiety. "You are clever and cunning, but you may be so recklessness! Now you must be more attentive and stay out of trouble if you are planning to play spy games in the castle."

"Heaven help me!" she groaned. "Now is my hour of triumph because I can help the king and the Queen Mother! I can finally do something for England as I have always wanted!"

Hugh shook his head disapprovingly. "Your passion for adventure can cost much, even your life."

"Father, I know that you will rather see me protected at all times, but if you do this to me, I will never be happy and even content with my life."

He sighed, resigned. "You are like a bird that cannot be caged," he said softly. "You have a freedom-loving spirit, and I will never do anything to take your freedom from you because I want you to be happy." He smiled. "I just ask you to be overcautious."

Megan smiled slightly. "I have been spying for the Queen Mother for quite some time, and I never failed any mission. Nonetheless, I understand that now situation is very different, and I promise that I won't make irresponsible decisions and take unjustified risks."

"Good," he said, relieved. He looked outside. "It's almost dark," he added with a low drawl.

She gestured towards the hearth where the fire had died out. "We need to light the torches and set the fire in the hearth." She shivered slightly. "It is already cold here."

Hugh eyed her with concern. "Are you cold, Meg?"

"A little bit," she said, dismissing his concern.

"Do you want to have dinner? You must be hungry!"

"What a good idea!" She laughed. "The belly is an ungrateful thing because it never remembers what you ate before and it always wants more tomorrow."

"Well said," Hugh said as he leapt to his feet. "Let's go to the dining room."

They left the study room and climbed down the dark staircase, lost in gloomy thoughts about the Queen Mother and the King of England. Against her will, Megan again caught herself on the thought about her mysterious stranger, and she was again astonished how deeply his image had already been engraved into her memory. Hugh and Megan heard the rustle of a servant girl's dress on the lowest landing, and she was pulled out of her dreams. Now it was time for family dinner and privacy.

During the dinner, Megan was trying to listen to her father, who was talking about the years of his life in Aquitaine and the battles he had fought alongside King Richard; no word spoken about Robin's death, the Queen Eleanor's arrest, or the King's disappearance. Perhaps it was the unrelenting tension of standing on the threshold of her new mission and the emotional exhaustion she felt, but soon she found herself unable to follow his train of thought, but she feigned her interest in their discussion.

She finished off her drink, thought about having another, and opted for eating venison instead. Her mind was engrossed in thoughts of her savior. Her expression suddenly turned absent-minded and she blinked as the image of the excessively handsome face flashed in her mind. She felt her heart hammering harder and harder, her breath caught for a moment. Her father said something else, but she didn't hear him. Time stilled and she felt the heat filling her. She looked at her father but saw her savior's face, and one thought came over and over again – she wanted to see him again.

Hugh noticed his daughter's distant gaze and stopped talking. "Meg, are you alright?"

Megan made a slight, formal apology for being distracted; then she was quiet for a while, drinking wine. "You don't need to worry about me. I am fine," she assured him.

"It would have been so much better if you were already married," he said suddenly, his expression turning into seriousness. "I know that you can take care of yourself and don't need a man's hand for guidance in life, but I am worried about what will happen to you after I am gone."

"Father, please don't say that! You have many years ahead! You are not going to die!"

He gave her a long, penetrating gaze. "Meg, a man of my age can catch cold today and die tomorrow, and it is only a matter of time before it happens," he said in a rhetoric fashion, smiling sadly. "If I die, you will become King of England's ward as you are unmarried." He sighed. "I have no doubt that King Richard will take care of you and your inheritance; he has always liked your dearly and will treat you fairly." He trailed off for a moment; then he said on in a low, strangled voice, "But if Prince John ascends the throne… for any reason, he will try to use your for his advantage in any possible way."

Megan made no answer, her heart swelling with fear, for she knew that her father was right. If she became John's ward, she would be either married off to one of his capricious, self-indulgent, and vile minions or forced to become his mistress. "I know where you are going, father," she responded after a pause. "You are rather disposed to bring to my attention that I need to find a husband."

Hugh gave a nod. "Yes, Meg," he confirmed. "Being married to a good, honest man is not a bad thing, and there are not only corrupt traitors in the Angevin Empire."

She turned her head away, staring into the orange flames of the candles. "I don't want to marry a man whom I don't love. So far I haven't met a man who would have touched my heart."

"Meg," he called softly, and she swung her gaze to him. "You were never betrothed, though you had many suitors, many of them rich and powerful landlords. I have never pressured you to marry anyone, though I could have arranged a marriage for you as soon as you reached a marriageable age."

Megan smiled affectionately. Her father was not like others, and she was grateful to him for that. "Thank you for not pressuring me. I would have never married a man whom I distaste and disrespect." She wrinkled her nose in disgust as she recalled one of her suitors whom she had rejected in an especially rueful manner. "I would have never tied the knot with a man like the Baron of Rotherham who pursued me like a mosquito and threatened to kidnap me from Poitiers if I didn't agree to marry him; only Queen Eleanor's interference stopped him. At that time I didn't know yet that he is the Black Knight and tried to kill the king."

Hugh still remembered the horror that had taken possession of him as he had read the Queen Mother's letter in which she had notified him about Rotherham's despicable behavior. "But not all men are like Rotherham. There are decent and good men, like Robin of Locksley."

Megan nodded, and her expression evolved into the one of despondency. "Lord Huntingdon was a great and rare man."

"May Sir Robin's gentle and kind soul rest in peace," Hugh said as he crossed himself.

They were quiet for a long moment, silently giving tribute to Robin of Locksley; then they drained their goblets in his memory. Then Hugh resumed speaking, this time about the state of affairs in his estates. But Megan was again thinking of the stranger who had impressed her so much. Somehow, in the depths of her heart, she knew that it wasn't their last meeting, though if she had known the real name of her savior, she would have burst into laughter of shock and disbelief.

§§§

After the sheriff's men had ordered the crowd to disperse, a great mass of people surged towards the streets leading to the central courtyard of Nottingham, and in their midst were Marian, Guy, Allan, Little John, and Much. As they stopped near one of the buildings in the narrow lane, Marian ran her eyes across their small group, but there was no Guy and her heart sank in her throat.

She glanced at Allan, and the color drained from her face. "Where is Guy?"

Allan shrugged. "He has some business."

A faint frown etched Marian's forehead. "What kind of business?"

"Maz, I don't know." Allan sounded helplessly.

Much put a hand on the hilt of the Saracen scimitar, Robin's scimitar, which he always had with him after Robin's death. "It is raining, and we will be soaked to the bone if we stay here. We should go to the inn and eat something. I am so hungry. I want pork, goose, and meat and some wine. I will die of hunger if we don't eat soon."

"Much, don't rant," Little John grumbled.

Marian stared numbly at Allan, her thoughts jumbled as she felt the edge of panic. The exterminatory suspicion took hold of her. The threat of danger cleared her head instantly and a fearful light entered her eyes as she clenched her fists. Not wasting time, she turned on her heel and disappeared in the crowd of people.

"Marian! Marian!" Allan screamed in frustration mingled with worry.

Little John frowned. "What happened to her?"

"Yeah, Marian is clever. Did she go to the inn to eat?" Much's face was absolutely innocent.

"Oh, Much." John shot him a dark look.

"I am saying nothing," Much mumbled.

"Marian may do something stupid," John voiced his fears. "Where is Gisborne?"

"Gone," Allan breathed.

John looked alarmed. "Where is he?"

"The sheriff," Allan's reply was short.

Realization struck them with a stunning force – Guy had gone after the sheriff and Marian had left to find him. They shared perplexed looks, unable to decide on the course of action. They really missed Robin and needed his leadership to guide them at that moment.

Inside the Castle of Nottingham, the court feasted lavishly, and in the great hall there was merriment in the air. Tables were leaden heavily with an orgy of delicate food, and rivers of wine flowed. Looking at the bemused faces of the guests, Prince John spoke a long speech in the honor of Robin of Locksley. Then the prince ordered to continue feasting, and some people cringed that splendid celebration followed the prince's memorial speech.

Like Richard and his mother, who loved Aquitanian motives and the art of troubadours, Prince John was also very fond of music. Deep and sensuous music was played by the musicians as the banquet progressed, and there was much lively conversation. As the last notes of the melody died away, the nobles and knights began to shuffle their feet and clear their throats, but before anyone could speak, Prince John rose to his feet and glanced over the guests, one hand raised up to silence them.

Prince John smiled. "My dear friends, I pray that you will remember my generosity and my gifts. All I ask for in return is your loyalty and your love. I know how to reward loyalty if you side with me." Then he sat down and leaned back in his chair.

The sheriff sat on the prince's right side. "Sire, I have some sweet news for you," he said as he bent his head closer to John.

John gave him a prying glance. "Tell me, Lord Vaisey! Is it what I think?"

"A clue: yes. Your brother Richard is going to have _a small… complication on his way back to England_," Vaisey informed, his lips lengthening in an ugly sneer. "Like your beloved mother, he will have a chance to have a long and nice… philosophical chat only with himself in the coming months."

"Splendid!" John cried out appreciatively. "Duke Leopold agreed, didn't he? Is the deed done?"

"Almost done, my king," Vaisey said, grinning wickedly, his eyes blazing with excitement mingled with malevolence. "If your brother has reached Austria, then he has already been… detained."

The prince burst out laughing. "Bravo, Lord Vaisey. Your plan is great."

Vaisey leered. "I will do everything for you, milord."

Still smiling, John narrowed his eyes and waggled his finger at the sheriff. "But I still remember that you failed to get rid of Richard in Acre; if you fail again, you will suffer the consequences." He sighed. "And I didn't need Locksley's death during an attempted regicide."

"I didn't know about the changes in your plans, my liege. You had instructed us to kill Hood before we departed to Acre." The sheriff's heart pounded in his chest as he waited for the prince's answer.

Prince John's face darkened. "It is true, but at that moment I didn't know about my cousin's marriage to Hood. There is discontent amongst many Aquitanian nobles, who love Richard and my mother. They swore their fealty to Robin of Locksley as the new Count de Bordeaux, and then he was murdered… by you." He let out a deep sigh. "Now they say behind my back that I ordered to kill Locksley."

The sheriff looked apologetic, his gaze almost humble. "Milord, you told me that you wanted to check our loyalties! Gisborne failed and betrayed you choosing King Richard over you, whilst I have always been loyal to you… I would have never killed Locksley if I knew that you hadn't wanted that."

John feigned grief. "I know that you killed him by chance…" He wiped his eyes with the back of his palm, a theatrical gesture of despair. "It eases the burden from my heart."

Vaisey smiled widely. "Anyway, Lady Isabella and I made up a new plan: we didn't do anything bad to Hood, but Gisborne did."

John gurgled with a laugh. "Gisborne will pay for his death. I hate this traitor. I want his blood." He took Isabella's hand. "Lady Isabella, it was an excellent idea to make your brother a scapegoat."

Isabella laughed in a good-natured way. "My liege, I don't deserve this praise. I can begin to taste the wine of glory only when you are the king."

Isabella wore a mask. She pretended that she was indifferent to Robin of Locksley's death. Yet, the only thing that she regretted doing in the Holy Land was her contribution to Robin's death. When Robin had fought with the sheriff in Imuiz, she had been sure that he would kill Vaisey and she would have to escape alone. Yet, the most unexpected had happened – the sheriff had murdered Robin. It would be better if Guy of Gisborne had been killed the sheriff instead of Robin. Strangely, she was even pleased that Melisende was pregnant, for she didn't wish the Huntingdon line to die out.

Prince John leaned forward, his face in inches from the sheriff's. "Vaisey, I will pardon you for everything, for all your failures, if only you get rid of my brother." He smiled. "I can even forget about your failure to find my mother's bastard son… if I become king."

The sheriff drank some wine, his mind racing. He was unnerved, but his face remained impassive. "Sire, you will be a king very soon. The Angevin Empire doesn't have the amount of money Duke Leopold is going to demand as a ransom." He smiled guilefully. "King Philippe is our ally too. You have powerful international support against your absent brother."

"I believe we already have _an outstanding deal_." The prince smiled festively.

Vaisey smiled, his jeweled tooth gleaming in the candlelight. "Oh, yes, my king. The deal is amazing."

"Cunning is one of my best virtues," the prince retorted. "And one of yours too, Lord Vaisey."

The sheriff bowed. "We have much in common… and I am always at your disposal."

Prince John turned his gaze at Isabella. He took her hand, and her trembling fingers interlaced with his. "I missed you while you were in the Holy Land, Isabella," he said in a voice rough with desire. He kissed her hand, so gently, and looked into her eyes with longing. "I needed your fire and your passion, my dear."

"I am burning for you," Isabella replied with a provocative smile on her face.

John clutched at Isabella's hands, and the words poured out of him. "Say it. Like you did before, say it." His eyes were almost begging her.

"King John," Isabella whispered.

"It does sound so good," the prince purred.

The Earl of Buckingham entered the great hall. He strode across the chamber and stopped near the table where Prince John, Sheriff Vaisey, and Isabella of Gisborne sat. Buckingham was in exhilarated spirits, for Gisborne had been outlawed and his way to get what he wanted was free.

"Sire, let me thank you for your invitation to this feast. I am happy to serve you in any way you want," Buckingham said sweetly as he bowed deeply to the prince.

Prince John laughed. "Don't spend more time bowing to me than necessarily."

Buckingham straightened his spine, and his eyes locked with the prince's. "I will do exactly what you want, sire. I am your loyal servant and subject."

"You are a charming and devoted servant, Lord Buckingham," the prince declared. "I promise you will get your reward." He sipped wine and then slammed the goblet on the table. "As soon as Gisborne learns about the proclamation, he will come here. Then we will deal with him."

"My brother will pay for high treason," Isabella stated.

"Oh, Isabella, I will give Gisborne to you! He is yours as long as you are mine." John's face expression was dreamy; heat was building in his body. "I want the feast to be over. I want to be alone with you."

"I am always yours, sire," Isabella pledged.

"Lady Isabella, you are really magnificent. Very few women can do what you did for us in the Holy Land," Vaisey said with respect.

Isabella was pleased. "It is nothing." Her heart began to thump. "I will do everything for my king."

"The glory of love is better than the glory of arms," Buckingham retorted. "But even being in love, we cannot forget that we are brothers-in-arms and that we have to fight for your throne, sire."

"Buckingham, we have already arranged… _a small surprise_ for King Richard," Vaisey interjected.

Buckingham smiled. "It was a great plan, Lord Vaisey."

Vaisey smiled. "My head is full of plans to please my king."

"Lord Buckingham, I thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for establishing so many international alliances against my brother," John said in sweet tones. "You allied us with King Philippe. You went to Austria and conducted negotiations with Duke Leopold." He looked between Vaisey and Buckingham. "It was Vaisey's idea to make an alliance with Duke Leopold, but you executed it technically."

The Earl of Buckingham smiled. "Sire, I am yours. I am ready to give my life for you."

"You did a great job," the prince praised.

Isabella took in the smiling faces of the prince, the sheriff, and the earl. She knew that she had to be cautious with them, even in spite of having Prince John's favor as his lover and trusted person. She distasted Buckingham and Vaisey, but she had to pretend. She would make a decisive move later.

"Long Live King John!" Isabella cried out; she needed that to feed the prince's ego with thoughts of kingship.

"Long live King John!" Vaisey echoed.

"Our great King John!" the Earl of Buckingham shouted.

"Long live me," John drawled, savoring the words on his tongue, turning them over and over again in his mind. "Long live me," he repeated.

Meanwhile, Guy sneaked into the underground tunnels under the castle, which he knew rather well as he himself had hired workers to build them. He walked quickly through the main tunnel and then strode up the stairs and along a long corridor. The rain had stopped when he emerged from the tunnel system on the surface, and he found himself into the darkness despite the profusion of torches flaring in the castle.

He swiftly crossed the inner courtyard within the walls of the castle, and then walked towards the strong room. But he didn't enter and instead hid himself in the adjacent secret passageway, from where he could observe the inner courtyard. There was nobody around, but he could hear the distant sounds of music and he could see many other things. His plan was simple – wait for the end of the feast and then go to Vaisey's bedchamber.

Guy shut his eyes, attached to the serious thoughts that were running through his mind. The long years of his service to Vaisey had been filled with humiliation, misery, despair, self-loathing, and hatred for Robin of Locksley. But everything had changed, and now it seemed to him that in his quest for power and wealth he had lost himself and turned against everything his mother Ghislane had taught him in his childhood, against all the people from the old happy life, against his mother's belief in him. Only Vaisey's death would probably give him his solace, he mused.

Guy's mind drifted back to his former enemy, and he smothered a scream of anguish. "Robin, if you hear me and watch me from Heaven, I want you to know something," he thought, looking at the sky. "I will kill Vaisey because he is the main reason for my misery." He clenched his teeth. "Robin, you told me in the Holy Land that I cannot accept my own faults, and you were correct. But I have changed."

Guy felt at peace for the first time in many years only after the trip to Acre – after the revelation of Guy's true parentage and his dramatic reconciliation with Robin. He no longer hated Robin and Malcolm of Locksley. He no longer blamed himself for the deaths of Ghislane and Roger of Gisborne, whom he had stopped calling his father. Now Guy admired and respected Robin, and he could freely speak about the changes in his feelings for Robin. At the same time, Guy was convinced that they could have never been close friends if Robin had survived.

"I will kill Vaisey for England, for King Richard, for Robin Hood, for my mother, and for myself," Guy whispered into the darkness. "I will be the executioner of the devil of Nottingham."

Nobody discovered Guy who stood craning his neck over the wall, except for Kate of Locksley. The young woman smiled slyly, thinking that she had a perfect opportunity to take revenge on Gisborne for the murder of her rightful lord – Robin of Locksley – and, most importantly, for the death of her brother Matthew. Perhaps God smiled upon her, sending her on Guy's path. Gisborne would pay for his crimes.

Kate had been working in the castle since Vaisey's departure to Acre. She had gone there with the purpose to kill Gisborne after his return. Despite the current tax paradise in Locksley, Kate didn't mind having three hundred pounds for Gisborne's capture. Tables were turned, and Gisborne was an outlaw. Now she would help capture him and get her reward.

With these thoughts, Kate of Locksley walked to the great hall, but she was stopped by Prince John's guards near the entrance. She tried to make her way through the guards, telling them that she urgently needed to speak with the prince, but she wasn't permitted to enter.

The Earl of Buckingham approached Kate and the guards who held her arms in a firm grip. "What is going on here?" His voice was edged with notes of displeasure. "Why are you here, lass?"

"I need Prince John," Kate announced, her head high, as if she were one of the guests on the feast.

The Earl of Buckingham laughed. "Do you fancy our beloved King John?"

"I know something that will interest him." Kate was getting angry.

Buckingham chuckled. "And what do you want to tell the prince, lass?"

"That's a secret, I am afraid." Kate tried to wrench out of the guards' grip, but they only laughed at her. "My lord, please tell these rude men to release me."

"Release her," the Earl commanded.

"Thank you, my lord." Kate raised her chin, staring at Buckingham. "Let me go to Prince John."

"Do you want to give him a kiss?" A wicked smile spread over Buckingham's lips. He eyed her, thinking that she was lovely enough to be his bedmate. "Or perhaps you will give me a kiss?"

"I have information about Guy of Gisborne," Kate said straightforwardly, ignoring the Earl's impudent hints.

"Is that true?" The Earl of Buckingham raised a quizzical brow.

Kate nodded. "Yes."

"You are a courageous and pretty girl," Buckingham, retorted. He made a step to her and squeezed her shoulder. "If you have deceived me, you will pay. Is that clear?"

Kate shook her head. "I am not lying. I know where Gisborne is."

"I want to believe you," Buckingham said with a large, cunning smile. "Come with me."

Her lashes fluttering like wings of startled birds, Kate nodded and followed Buckingham. He snapped his fingers, and two guards trailed behind them. Kate was happy, thinking that she had won.

Gisborne spent the waiting time reminiscing the past. Suddenly, in the torch-flickering darkness, Guy noticed Vaisey's figure moving up the spiral staircase that led to the tower room. His heart pounding, he left his hiding place and followed the sheriff. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure he was alone, and then climbed the stairs. The sound of Guy's footsteps was silenced by lazy laughter that floated from the corridor where drunken noblemen were harassing servant girls.

Guy opened the door to the tower room and paused for an instant. The hair on his neck prickled, and his nerves were taut, his teeth were on edge. From the small sounds that drifted to his straining ears, Guy knew that the sheriff was there. His hand slid down to the hilt of the broadsword, and he breathed an unconscious sigh of relief. At least, he thought grimly, it would be a one-to-one combat.

Guy craved for vengeance and absolution. He could become a better man, but Vaisey stood between him and redemption. The sheriff was doomed to die. His mission to kill Vaisey was sacred. After Vaisey's death, he would become his own man – not Vaisey's henchman, not Guy of Gisborne, not Gisborne, and even not Sir Guy – he would be simply Guy.

Guy came inside, his eyes scanning the room in search for his former master. Gazing into the darkness, the sheriff stood near the battlement, his back turned to Guy.

Sensing the danger, Vaisey swung around. "Oh, Gisborne! I am happy to see you! This is a pleasant evening! A little chilly and rainy, but the air is fresh." His voice was rancorous and viperous, as always.

Guy drew his sword. "Soon the evening will be more pleasant."

Vaisey laughed fiendishly. "Oh, Gizzy! My beloved Gizzy! How are you doing, my boy?" His grin grew wider. "How was your trip from Acre? It is so bad that it rains rather rarely in the summer and autumn in the Holy Land! You could have mourned for Robin Hood together with nature!"

"Robin's death was tragic and unfair," Guy said seriously, in a firm and confident voice. "But I am glad that he saved King Richard from you."

The sheriff laughed. "Gisborne, did you listen to our proclamation?" He laughed again. "I didn't go to Acre – you tried to assassinate King Richard and murdered Robin Red Breast. You are the murderer of England's beloved hero," he mocked. "Gizzy – dizzy – drizzly! Your name is funny, my boy! I am dizzy that you are here! I am so pleased to see you! The weather is welcoming you back in Nottingham: God gives us drizzling rain on the day of your return."

Guy said nothing and instead lunged at the sheriff. The furious rage consumed him, and his only desire was to kill the source of his misery and problems – Vaisey. The sheriff sidestepped to avoid the blow. Guy advanced forward, and Vaisey took a step back.

"You are doomed to die tonight." With a howl of rage, Guy swung his sword at the sheriff's head.

"Oh, Gisborne, you are so high-spirited today." Giggling as if he were enjoying their battle, Vaisey ducked and picked up a wooden candlestick, blocking an overhead blow.

The sheriff kicked Guy back with the candlestick, knocking him on his back to the stone floor. Vaisey brought down the candlestick, but Guy rolled over and swiftly jumped to his feet. Guy swung his sword and launched a new attack on the sheriff.

Guy almost cornered the sheriff, pointing his sword at his enemy's chest. "Now it is much, much better."

"You want to kill me, don't you?"

"I want to take my revenge!" Guy said through the tightly clenched teeth. "You represent everything that's loathsome in a man."

"You represent the same, my boy."

"No!" Guy cried out briskly. "You taught me to kill and torture. If I had never met you, I would have been a normal man! I wouldn't have become a despicable traitor!"

Vaisey smiled. "Oh, Gisborne, I want to play with you." He sent his former henchman an air kiss. "Did you like my gift to you, Gizzy? Does it make you happy that everyone thinks you killed the hero?"

Guy lunged at the sheriff. "No, Robin's death doesn't make me happy."

Vaisey's gaze turned half suspicious, half intrigued. "Gisborne, have you gone mad? Were your brains cooked under the sun of the Holy Land?"

"Robin of Locksley is no longer my enemy. You are my enemy." Guy swung his sword at the sheriff. "You are the lowest scum on earth!"

The sheriff looked confused, but then he scowled. "I thought you liked me. I was so fond of you, Gisborne." He retreated as Guy again lunged at him. "You were fond of me, too." His tone turned harsher. "But you betrayed me and joined your forces with Robin Hood against me."

Guy swung his sword diagonally, but the sheriff ducked behind a pillar. Trying to defend himself, Vaisey pulled a flaming torch off the wall and held it out at Gisborne. Guy took a step back, a gust of black rage sweeping through him; he attacked the sheriff again, but the older man grabbed his sword arm and swung the torch at him. Gisborne ducked and punched his rival in the stomach. Groaning in pain and cursing aloud, Vaisey staggered backwards and fell to the floor.

"I will be rid of you," Guy hissed, looking down at the sheriff.

Vaisey laughed, his hand searching for the dagger in the pocket of his doublet. "Quickly, quickly, please, I beg you." He laughed, feigning his fear. "Have mercy on me. You owe me a lot – I could have killed you in Normandy for your debt, but I spared your life."

Gisborne pressed his sword to the sheriff's throat. "I owe you nothing."

"You would have starved to death without me. You would have died a long time ago without me."

Guy pressed the blade tighter to his opponent's neck. "You have no idea how much pleasure this is going to give me. You are going to die slowly and painfully, very painfully. I am going to watch the venom drain from your body as you die."

Vaisey scoffed. "Oh, Gisborne, please. Don't disgrace me. Kill me quickly, my boy."

Vaisey's taunting speech unleashed maddening rage in Guy, and for an instant what the sheriff saw on the face of his former man made him shrink in fear.

Guy lifted his sword over Vaisey's head. But before he could strike a final blow, Vaisey stabbed him in his thigh with the dagger and then punched him into the face.

"Humanity is a weakness, Gisborne. It has always been your weakness. I tried to teach you, but I failed." His words rung in the crisp air like the toll of a bell.

Guy tumbled to the floor, and his sword slipped from his hands and his head swam with dizziness. Pain slashed through his leg, the dagger still driven in his flesh. He didn't see the sheriff pick up his sword and advance at him.

"This is your end, my boy," Vaisey hissed as he prepared to make a final blow.

Sensing the danger, Guy grabbed the sheriff's sword arm and punched him in the stomach, but Vaisey still managed to kick him in the groin. They struggled on the floor, kicking and punching one another, crawling towards the battlement, gasping with fury and cursing each other.

"You are at fault that King Henry never believed I am his son! You poisoned the old king's mind against my mother! You poison everything!" Guy screamed violently, sheer rage and black hatred pounding inside of him, his heart beating so frantically he thought it would explode in his chest.

§§§

Guy kicked the sheriff into the belly and then pinned his shoulders to the wall. Looking into Guy's eyes, the sheriff laughed – a malevolent, diabolical sound that was cripplingly painful for perception of any God-loving man, for Vaisey looked so much like the devil that came on earth to kill, steal, and destroy. Vaisey smashed his fists into Guy's face, and again laughed. Roaring in pain, Gisborne scrambled backwards and dropped his sword. The sheriff took the sword and strode forward.

A lethal smile twisted Vaisey's mouth. "All this little quarrel because of a woman, even a mother?"

"She was my mother!" Guy shouted.

"Lepers, Gisborne, lepers," Vaisey nearly sang. "I had enjoyed your company until your leper Marian made you so weak and changed you, damn her."

"Marian is not a leper!"

"Your mother, Marian, all women are lepers."

"You deserve to burn in hell." Black rage churned in his chest as Guy glared at him with loathing.

"Ghislaine was gorgeous! Her steel blue eyes and her long raven hair were her most appealing features," Vaisey said with a touch of wistfulness.

"Don't say my mother's name!"

The sheriff glanced into Guy's eyes. "I always do what I want. You will never order me anything."

Vaisey had a sword in his arm and could attack, but instead he stood looking at Guy. Guy understood that the sheriff wanted to have a moment of candidness before one of them killed the other.

Gisborne held Vaisey's gaze. "Why did you disgrace my mother?"

The sheriff regarded Guy with a loathsome smirk. "She didn't want me, but I wanted her. She broke my heart and had to pay for her betrayal. She brought opprobrium on herself!"

"If you hadn't spread those rumors, King Henry might have acknowledged me as his son."

For a brief moment, Vaisey looked desperate. "She got what she deserved – disgrace and shame."

"My mother didn't want you!"

The sheriff sighed. "But I wanted her," he said quietly. "I was ready to conquer the world for her, but she laughed into my face and rejected me. She preferred to become the king's whore instead of my wife."

"You didn't deserve her," Guy growled.

A tense silence stretched between Guy and Vaisey. They stared at each other as if bewitched.

"Ghislaine was the only woman whom I loved." Vaisey's face twisted in hatred. "She was beautiful and charming, and I quickly fell for her. She had many suitors, and they all were at her feet." He gave Guy a murderous glare. "I proposed to her, but she didn't accept."

"You might have tried to court her and then propose to her again."

"She would have never agreed to marry me," Vaisey said with resigned exasperation.

"Why did she reject you?" Guy asked out of mere curiosity.

There was the raw pain in Vaisey's eyes. "Ghislaine was born in the old Norman family, powerful and rich. She was proud of her family connections. Every man wanted her, and the King of England courted her before the eyes of Queen Eleanor and the royal court." He clenched and unclenched his fists. "But I wasn't born in an old noble Saxon or Norman family!" He paused for an instant, remembering the past. "She told me that she would easily find a far better match than a son of a landless knight."

"I am really sorry that she acted so cruelly." Guy exhaled on an exasperated grunt of comprehension. In spite of his deeply-rooted hatred, he suddenly felt pity for the sheriff. He had never thought that his kind and gentle mother could have been so haughty, so heartless, so tactless, and so inconsiderate.

"I was nothing to her! She didn't care about me! She broke my heart!"

Guy was astonished. It was the first time in his life when he saw the sheriff desperate and depressed. Then the sheriff insulted Ghislane, calling her a wanton leper and a bitch. As he pronounced these words, blood drained from Guy's face as rage coursed through him.

"You didn't love her if you wronged her so much! You wanted her as your possession, but she didn't want to be yours!" Guy screamed with an undertone of heightened hatred.

Vaisey's eyes revealed quiet despair. "You are wrong, my boy. I loved Ghislaine with all my heart. That's why I wanted you so much at my side," he professed, his face evolving into a sheer tragedy. "I loved her. I was under her love spell. I dreamt of her every night." His voice was shaking with emotions. "My heart was beating faster when I looked at her."

"Then I am really sorry," Guy said sincerely.

Vaisey shrugged, pretending that Guy's apology didn't touch him. Yet, he was somehow pleased, but not satisfied. Only Guy's blood could wash away the pain Guy's betrayal had caused him.

The sheriff stared at him with wild eyes. "You are sorry?" He clenched his fists. "Nothing may ever excuse your mother! She was my last chance for happiness. She was precious to me." He gave a roar of rage. "But she broke my heart. Her rejection almost killed me."

A deep frown marred Guy's forehead. "Why was my mother your last chance?"

Vaisey's face flashed with a wealth of emotions – anger, hatred, despair, pain, and even hope. "My father, Sir Roderick Vaisey, hated me with all his heart," he supplied. "Father loved my elder sister, my Davina, but he could never love me."

"You were his son, his flesh and blood! Why did he hate you?" Guy was confused. "Roger of Gisborne loved me as his own son, although he knew very well that I wasn't his."

Vaisey looked right into Guy's eyes. "My father hated me for causing the death of my mother, Lady Alissende Vaisey." His voice was low, detached, and cold. "I killed my mother in childbirth. Father loved my mother, and he had never recovered from her death; he always blamed me for her death." His voice took a lower octave. "Father always told me that I was a murderer because my mother died when I drew my first breath."

"Your father was a cruel man, my lord."

"I hated my father. I hated myself. I hated that other children were loved by their fathers. I hated the whole world," Vaisey continued in the chilly voice. Then he chuckled darkly. "Only my dear Davina and my beautiful birds loved me."

Gisborne nodded brusquely. "You had the reason to hate your father."

The sheriff looked at Guy, his face torn between anguish and hatred. "I thought that Ghislaine would love me for who I was. I wanted her to love me just because I was a man who loved her, but she said that I was nothing. She was so cruel, so cruel to me. This bitch even laughed into my face when she rejected me."

Guy took a step back and gasped at the blaze of hatred in his eyes. "Milord, you blame my mother for everything. You hate her more than you hated even your father."

"I blame only Ghislaine. She is at fault," Vaisey spat out of the depths of his anguish. "I should have killed her. I should have ended her miserable life when she rejected me."

"What? My God!" Guy cried out, shocked. "You are out of your mind!"

"No, I am not mad, my boy. I am just practical and ruthless. I know what I want."

"Do you hate me, Vaisey?" Guy was genuinely interested. "I am my mother's son. But you kept me so close for so long."

"I have never hated you, Gisborne, until you betrayed me," the sheriff confessed.

"You wanted me to work for you because you had once loved my mother?"

The sheriff scoffed. "Yes, I wanted a piece of Ghislaine near me. You could have been my son."

"You knew that King Henry was my father." It sounded more like a statement than a question.

"Yes, I did." Vaisey's eyes pierced Guy's. "I wanted you to be like me, like my son. You reminded me of Ghislaine. You also have Ghislaine's eyes and her raven hair, my boy." He smiled faintly, without familiar sarcasm, but in a moment his face changed into hatred. "You have your father's hellish Angevin temper. You also inherited your hardheaded practicality from the Plantagenets."

Anger stirred in Guy's heart. "You told me nothing about my true parentage," he said, his voice gritty with anger.

The sheriff smiled. "Yes, I knew that you are a royal bastard."

The words whizzed piercingly into Guy's ears. "You sent me on the mission to Acre to kill Richard. I could have killed my own brother!"

"You are pathetic, Gisborne," Vaisey spat. "I could have been your father, not the King of England! But Ghislaine's rejection broke me, my boy."

At first, Guy was touched by Vaisey's story. His heart ached as the sheriff's voice reached his ears. His story reminded him of his own situation not a long time ago: he had seen his redemption in Marian, but he had been deluded. Yet, Vaisey himself had made his choices in life and had stepped into the darkness, and the ultimate responsibility for his sins and crimes lay on him. At those thoughts, Guy's loathing and hatred for the sheriff overmastered his entire being.

"Vaisey, you are at fault," Guy said resolutely. "Even if my mother broke your heart, it wasn't a reason to become so evil and so cruel. You had no right to use me throughout all these years."

The old man began to laugh. "And you let me use you, Guy. You are such a fool."

"And you are a cruel monster," Guy flung back at his former master.

"Gizzy, you are a pathetic parody of a man. You are a stupid weakling," Vaisey said spitefully.

Vaisey gripped his sword and advanced forward; he lunged at his former henchman, preparing to strike a fatal overhead blow. Guy barely dodged from a blow in time.

Guy grabbed the sheriff's arm. "It is good that Robin killed your sister. She is already in hell, and you will meet her there soon."

"Damn you, Gisborne," Vaisey cursed, his eyes glittering in rage. "Don't touch my sister. Hood paid for her death, and you will also pay for your betrayal."

Guy twisted the sheriff's arm and forced him to take a step backwards. He slammed the sheriff's hand into a merlon, and the sword slipped from Vaisey's hand.

With hatred glowing in his fierce eyes, Guy wrapped his arms around the sheriff's throat. "You have no idea how much I hate you. I hated you for so long. I should have killed you years ago." He removed a dagger from his leg and brought it to the sheriff's neck.

Vaisey gasped for air. "Gizzy, don't be so impatient to say goodbye to me!" He caught Guy's arm and punched him in the chest; the dagger tumbled to the floor. "Prepare to die, my boy."

Gisborne fell into the gap between two merlons. He looked down into the darkness, and dread clenched his stomach into a tight knot; he had always been afraid of altitude, and the prospect of dying at Vaisey's hand on the battlement of the castle was not appealing at all.

At the sight of Vaisey's smiling face leaning over him, Guy felt bile of disgust filling his throat, and he swallowed heavily. For a long moment, the sheriff stood over Guy who was so close to the edge, fearing that he would be pushed down from the tower.

But Vaisey was quiet, his grizzled brows furrowed, his eyes watching Guy with a predatory gaze of a hawk. In a deathly silence and oppressive darkness, they glared at one another – a teacher and a pupil, a father and a son – with fierce eyes. A wealth of emotions – rage, resentment, loathing, hatred, chagrin, and bitterness – swept over them, but hatred was a dominant, strongest feeling.

"You know, I loved you as a son," Vaisey confessed, with a touch of regret. "And I know you did love me, too." His expression changed into resentment and scorn. "But you betrayed me." He plunged the dagger into Guy's thigh, smiling maliciously. "This is for your betrayal."

The sheriff gave a loud cry of rage. Barbaric, almost insane rage pierced his black heart to every part of its blackness, and he grabbed Guy's feet and pulled them over the head. Guy hung above the lethal abyss, only one of his hands gripping the merlon, so close to falling from the tower.

The sheriff chuckled. "And now you will pay for your betrayal, my dear boy!"

Guy's head was spinning, his blood throbbing dizzily through his veins. Impracticable schemes of his own salvation whirled in his brain as he sought a way to escape from the trap of death. Then, driven by pure fury, Guy swiftly pulled the dagger out of his leg and blindly struck out, and luck was with him, for he stabbed the sheriff in the chest just at the moment when his mortal enemy was about to push him away from the wall.

The sheriff groaned in pain. Staring at Guy in shock, he took the dagger out of his chest, leaning on a merlon. "Gizzy," he whispered.

Guy pulled himself up over the wall onto the safe ground, swooning in happiness that he had saved himself and had defeated his enemy. He saw a pool of blood near his feet from his own two wounds; it seemed that Vaisey's blade had sliced into a large vein in his leg.

"Die! Die now!" Guy hissed, the hatred he felt for the sheriff plain on his face.

Vaisey lowered himself on the floor. "Gisborne, you are a fool," he said slowly. "You don't even know how cunning Prince John is. Our quarrel is nothing but sport for him." He scoffed. "It was Isabella's idea to cast the blame for Hood's death on you."

"Isabella wouldn't have done that," Guy replied coldly.

"You don't know your sister, you damned fool! She has been with the Black Knights for long enough!"

"No!" Guy flicked a lock of his long hair from his eyes with a sharp jerk of his head.

"Fool! Blithering oaf! You are nothing more than a lapdog!" Vaisey shouted.

"After your death, I will be my own man."

"We can still make a deal, Gisborne. Peace?"

"Never! You deserve to die!" Guy bellowed in rage. "This is for me and for everyone you poisoned!"

"Gisborne, don't trust both Richard and John, especially John," Vaisey said. His breathing was labored, and blood was pouring out of his wound on the floor. "Do you hear me, _my boy, my almost son_? Nothing... is what it seems. Nothing." Then he coughed and shut his eyes. His lips were parted slightly, and a narrow trickle of blood ran down the corner of her mouth.

The smell of blood in his flaring nostrils, a frightening glitter in his eyes, and the blood-stained dagger clasped in his hands, Guy stared at the sheriff, hardly able to believe that he had killed his mortal foe. Standing beside the corpse, he absently wiped the blade on his trousers.

Suddenly aware of the necessity to leave before the guards appeared there, he started walking towards the door but stopped as his gaze fell on Marian. "Marian," he murmured.

"You killed him," Marian said in disbelief, her eyes taking in Vaisey's motionless form on the floor.

Guy swallowed painfully. "Let's go. We must leave."

The sound of approaching footsteps came from the stairs, and they froze, fear and horror running through their veins. They gasped for air as they saw Prince John, Isabella, and Kate of Locksley standing at the doorway; the prince's guards stood behind.

Prince John looked smug and happy, like a great Roman general who had just completed his triumph on the Field of Mars, celebrating extraordinary victory over his enemies. Isabella's face was cold and arrogant, but she was reserved, keeping her emotions tightly reined. The satisfied smirk spread across the young and pretty features of Kate of Locksley.

John began applauding. "Bravo, Sir Guy. I thought that you had no guts to kill your master." His gaze shifted to Isabella. "I believe Gisborne deserves to be punished for his crimes, right?"

Isabella smiled gladsomely. "He is a dangerous criminal, sire. He must be executed for what he did to the King of England, you, and many other innocent and honest people."

"Traitors," Marian spat, her eyes darting daggers at both Isabella and Kate.

"Good job, Kate," John praised.

Kate's cheeks flushed. "I knew that you would be pleased, sire."

Marian stepped forward, her eyes darting between Prince John and Isabella. Her chin lifted pugnaciously. "Sire, you know that Guy didn't murder Robin. You lied today. You–"

"Silence!" the prince bawled out, his fingers caressing his new golden ring he had ordered to produce as an authentic copy of King Henry's old ring which Richard was wearing. "You are nobody, and you cannot talk to me in such a rude manner! I am the prince of England, the future King of England, while you are only _the traitor's whore_!"

"She is my wife!" Guy cried out in indignation.

"Lady Marian, _you are not his wife_," the prince continued with a cold smirk. "_You are Robin Hood's sweetheart and Guy of Gisborne's… lover, but nobody's wife!_"

Guy was sure that he would have stabbed the prince if he had a sword in his hands at the moment. "How dare you say that, you lecherous idiot with ambitions for the crown you are not worthy of!"

"How dare you? How dare you insult your monarch?" Prince John was very angry.

"You are not a monarch – you are a pretender!" Guy fired.

A perceptible agitation wavered through the men of the elite guard at Guy's disrespectful speech; though they kept their swords at the ready, several of them shot Guy scornful glances.

His face twisted in a painful grimace, his brows furrowed furiously, and his eyes blazing with rage, John ordered the guards to surround Guy. Marian opened her mouth to protest, but the guards held her hands tightly, and she uttered no word, her lips producing gasping sounds. The blue eyes cold and furious, in two strides the prince was beside Guy. A ringing slap was the next sound, and Guy whimpered in pain, brushing his hand across his cheek. Gisborne tried to say something else, but a new slap silenced him.

"I never forgive betrayal, Gisborne," Prince John hissed, looking from Guy to Marian. "As for you, Lady Marian of Knighton, I am most honored to inform you that you are not Lady Gisborne. You are not Gisborne's wife, and it is good for you because he is a traitor and will die a traitor's death."

"I am his wife," Marian protested.

"No, you are not, and now I will debunk your illusions," the prince stated, smiling triumphantly. "When your father, Sir Edward of Knighton, was in the dungeons, he agreed to sign a betrothal agreement with Sir Walter Giffard, the Earl of Buckingham. He was promised that you both would be freed after the wedding to Lord Buckingham." He let out a rich chuckle. "It happened after Vaisey had led the Earl of Winchester to believe that he would have you," he added to avoid further questions.

"Lady Marian's marriage to Gisborne is null and void on the grounds of pre-contract," Isabella inferred.

Marian was shocked to the core. "My father would have never done that."

"No," Guy said.

"It is true, Lady Marian! Your father was an old, weak man. He wanted only the best for you," the prince taunted. "Lord Buckingham will be a good husband. He will tame you, my dear."

The Earl of Buckingham entered the tower room, and the prince's guards parted to give him a way, bowing in respect. Marian trembled all over as she immediately recognized Buckingham: she had seen him before in the castle when the Black Knights had been assembled to sign the Pact of Nottingham, and he had openly tried to woo her, competing with Winchester. The Earl's deeply set, gray eyes bore into Marian's face, and he smiled with a jubilant smile, the sneering lust on his face.

"Good evening," Buckingham began, bowing to the prince; he was holding the rolled parchment in his hand. "Lady Marian, I will show you our betrothal agreement."

With trembling hands, Marian took the parchment from Buckingham's hands, and her face conveyed quiet loathing as their eyes met for a split second. Buckingham only smirked at her.

Marian unrolled the parchment and stared at her father's familiar handwriting. It was a legal contract in which her father had agreed to give her hand in a marriage to the Earl of Buckingham; the Knighton Hall and her father's lands were to be transferred on her husband's name after their wedding.

Marian shook her head in disbelief, numbness overcoming her. She looked at Guy with such despair in her eyes that he instinctively tried to wrench out of the grip of his captors, but they held him tightly. Observing the wreckage of Marian and Guy's marriage, Kate sniggered, and Marian frowned at her, not hiding her growing antipathy towards the potter girl.

"I will never marry you, Lord Buckingham." The pounding of Marian's heartbeat, loud in her head, seemed to drown out all other sound. She took a calming breath, but it didn't help.

Buckingham laughed waspishly. "We are betrothed, my lady, and I will marry you. Your own father gave me the rights to claim you as my wife."

"I swear that she will never be your wife, Buckingham. I will kill you." Guy fixed a glare of ice on the Earl of Buckingham, nodding with dark promise.

"You are in no position to threaten me, Gisborne," Buckingham retorted with an ironic smile.

Prince John approached Marian and circled her. He made an impatient sound. "Lady Marian is a shrill little thing. And she is beautiful, from the well-shaped, intelligent head to the long, delicate legs." He arched his neck, almost preening before her. "I have to acknowledge, albeit reluctantly, that Robin Hood _had_ and Guy of Gisborne _has_ an exquisite taste for women."

Marian stared at John furiously, her jaw tightened. "I will never marry the Earl of Buckingham."

"Oh, my Lady Marian! You are spirited and willful and beautiful! You are a rare creature! You must be a tigress in a bed!" John's eyes glittered with mockery; the desire he felt was obvious in his look, and a lewd note came into his voice as he went on. "I am sure that your future husband is intending to make you, his future wife, submit to his will! He will even command you to love me if I want that!"

Buckingham grinned. "How delightful! Lady Marian will be mine!" He laughed briefly, a harsh, vinegary sound. I will definitely make my wife mine in all aspects, milord. A wife must be an obedient woman and a good breeder, and I will make sure she will give me many sons to carry on my name."

Prince John broke into an uproarious laughter, and Isabella laughed as well, though she had been displeased by the lustful glances which the prince's cast at Marian and by his broad hints. Guy threw another insult at John, and one of the guards slapped him hard across his cheek.

Marian gasped for breath, her voice hardly coming out at all, but she was glad of the rage that was coursing through her veins, for she could hide her fear behind a facade of angry disdain. "You all made a mistake," she addressed the prince and the earl. "I am not like some other women: I don't have unparalleled talents in pleasing men." She glanced askance at Isabella.

"The strongest survives, Lady Marian," Isabella parried unflinchingly.

"Guards!" Prince John called, snapping his fingers. "Escort our dear Lady Marian to one of the guest chambers. She must be under a heavy guard until you get my further instructions. Later she will come to London with me and Lord Buckingham; she will stay there until her wedding."

"Surely, the court in London is better than here, in Nottingham?" the Earl of Buckingham mocked.

"Lady Marian will like the court," the prince said with a lecherous smile.

"The court shines when you are there, milord," Isabella murmured with a flattering smile. After a moment she said, "Pity my brother is not going to accompany the lady."

"Guy of Gisborne is going to be a special guest in the dungeons!" A wry grin manifested on the prince's features. He nodded at the guards. "Throw Gisborne into the coldest and dampest cell. Don't give him food for several days, but ask physician to stitch his wounds; I need him alive for some time."

"No! You cannot do that to Guy!" Marian brushed the tears from her cheeks. "You cannot do that to him because King Richard pardoned him!"

"I can do whatever pleases me, Lady Marian. I am of royal blood, and I am your lord and sovereign!" John returned wrathfully. His face darkened. "Again pitiful Richard… I am fed up with this name!"

Isabella came closer to her royal lover. "You have a bright and happy future ahead, my king." Smiling at him, she ran her hand up his neck to gently grasp a thick handful of his hair, her voice now low and a little husky. "We have already talked about that. You shouldn't worry about your brother."

The prince's face changed into joyfulness. "The throne will be mine at last," he said. "Truly mine forever, as my father wished."

"Forever," Isabella echoed. He sounded so much like a little spoiled child that she chuckled at him.

"You are a dead man walking, brother." Isabella watched Guy being shackled, luxuriating in the moment of her brother's defeat.

Guy sneered. "What a good sister you are, Isabella!"

"He is yours now, Isabella!" Prince John said gleefully. "Take them away!"

Guy snapped his head toward his sister, scowling at her with dark fury. Her head high, Marian looked at the prince, his mistress, and the Black Knight. Then the guards led them away.

"You are a good and loyal girl," the prince told Kate, smiling at her affectionately.

Kate looked surprised. "Sire, what about my reward?"

The prince's face showed puzzlement. "What?"

"I helped you find Guy of Gisborne! You owe me the reward – three hundred pounds!" Kate demanded.

"And you owe me obedience and submission as your king," John shot back.

"You promised in front of the people to give the bounty on Gisborne's head!" Kate challenged.

John smiled tightly. "You see, Kate, there are certain… problems," he began. "My brother's Crusade depleted the treasury, so I cannot pay you." He made a helpless gesture. "And it is your civil duty to report to your authorities everything you know about dangerous criminals like Gisborne."

Kate shot him a hostile stare, all the helpless anger and resentment she felt at his actions plain on her face. "You are going back on your word!"

The prince gave a laugh. "By Heaven, that's amusing!" He smirked at the servant girl. "You are a pretty wench, but very ill-mannered and low born. You are dismissed."

Kate's face contorted with anger. "Goodnight," she said between clenched teeth. She dropped into an awkward curtsey and hurried to leave.

Prince John stared after Kate as she walked to the door, at the tempting curves plainly revealed by the tight, old-fashioned gown, sensual anticipation curling in his belly. He imagined Kate naked and desire surged through his loins. Kate wasn't exactly what attracted him in women, but he didn't mind spending a night or two with her, for he loved a variety of women in his bed.

"The perfect end to the perfect day?" Prince John raised a brow, expecting to be praised.

Buckingham lowered his head in a bow. "My king, I cannot wish anything else! Your kingship will bring prosperity and happiness not only to our country, but also to lives of all your loyal subjects!"

John smiled. "You love me, Buckingham! You love me!"

"I love you most of all in my life," Buckingham flattered.

John licked his lips, grinning. "I appreciate your sincere affection for me."

Prince John took Isabella's arm in his and led her to the exit, casting a brief glance at Vaisey's body on the floor, his lips barely quivering at the edges, his eyes alight with mischief and excitement. Isabella didn't see Buckingham smile wryly at the guard whom he offered a fine leather pouch, into which the man dipped his fingers and laughed. Then the earl hurried to join the prince at the feast.

In the great hall, Isabella stood proudly at the prince's right hand, her face glowing brightly as her mind replayed the images of Guy's desperate face and the sheriff's bloodied corpse. She won the game – Guy was arrested and Vaisey was dead, the two men whom she hated with all her being were no longer a threat to her. The loud voices and laughter pulled her out of her thoughts, and her mind concentrated on the formidable weapon she needed so much to triumph over men – power.

Isabella turned her gaze at her lover. "What about our deal, milord?"

John winked at her. "I always remember my promises."

Prince John clapped his hands to attract attention of the guests. "It is with great sadness that I must announce the death of Lord Peter Vaisey, the Sheriff of Nottingham. He has been murdered by the villainous Guy of Gisborne. Gisborne has been arrested and now is locked in the dungeons."

The declaration drew a gasp of horror from the nobles. A low murmur went through the chamber.

John smiled. "I appoint Lady Isabella of Gisborne the new Sheriff of Nottingham."

Isabella raised a goblet of wine to her lips. "Long live King John!"

Everyone stood up, their goblets in their hands, but their faces strangely tense and impassive.

Prince John laughed. "Long live me!"

Isabella flashed a coquettish smile. "My lord, my master of the word," she whispered.

John stared at Isabella as if entranced. He saw her lashes flutter closed and then open again; his breath suspended as she turned her face up ever so slightly to his. "You are so beautiful," he murmured.

"Thank you," Isabella said modestly.

"I will come to your chambers tonight," John pledged.

Her face stretched into a thin smile. "As you wish, sire."

§§§

The sun was high in the blue sky when Robin awoke. He had had restless dreams, and now the remnants of dreadful visions of battlefield that presented only blood-soaked earth were still clinging to his mind, like wisps of spiderwebs. His heart still surged with fear, and he shook his head, as if trying to rid himself of what was on his mind. Coherent thoughts raced through his head, and he suddenly realized that he could breathe, see, and think. _He didn't die in Imuiz! He was really alive!_

During the past weeks, Robin was in a state of trance induced by opiates, but now he finally emerged from the oblivion, though a small part of him regretted that reality claimed him back. He heard that the Roman legionary surgeons and physicians had used opiates for hundreds of years, but he had never experienced their effect on himself until he had been stabbed in Imuiz. Under their influence he had completely lost awareness, but he was grateful that the herbs had protected him from pain.

Robin moved and felt a stab of pain in his stomach again, but this time it was less sharp than at the time of his first awakening. He pulled off his silk bedcovers and lifted his tunic, wishing to examine his own body. He ran his palms across his naked skin of his thighs and his abdomen. His wound was still bandaged, and he wondered whether he would have an ugly scar when it healed properly. His fingers traced his old scar on his left side, but the touch almost burnt him and his arms went to his sides.

With a groan, Robin pulled himself into a sitting position. He swept the gaze curtains open and climbed out of the bed. On his feet, he felt slightly lightheaded. He wavered on his feet for a moment, unconsciously clutching his wound as nagging pain slashed through his stomach.

He surveyed his surroundings with a critical eye, and a wide grin splashed across his face. He felt like a guest in an exquisite pleasure palace, like Aladdin from _'One thousand and one Arabian nights'_.

The bedchamber was fantastic. Shimmering colorful textiles with a rich diversity of textures and patterns – mainly blue, emerald green, turquoise, black, and white – hung the walls and the ceiling. Graceful columns of white marble supported the vault of the ceiling. There were Arabian style murals and engraved Arabic inscriptions on one of the walls. The floor was made of blue-and-white-glazed tile and solid gold. The crafted Arabian hanging lamps and pendant lighting lanterns on the walls looked very original, and Robin could imagine the effect of the merrily leaping red flames in nighttime.

The huge bed, with blue gaze curtains and drapes of the same color, stood near the wall overlooking the balcony. Egg-shaped metal punchwork lanterns stood on the bedside tables. To the left from the bed, there was a large alcove and steps leading to a small pool. To the right from the bed, a soft Persian carpet lay on the floor, tasseled silk pillows strewn upon it. Wood furniture – low-profile seating, chests, small polygonal end tables, panels, Koran boxes and stands – were embellished with intricately carved abstract and geometric designs; some pieces were guided.

The bedchamber had three arched windows and a large balcony with double doors. Even standing far from the balcony, Robin could see the outlines of Jerusalem's towers and could hear noises coming from the city streets. The sweet smell of verbena and Arabian oils rose up all around him and the tinkling sound of fountains spewing forth their waters in playful jets and marble waterfalls sang in his ears. Doves flapped past the balcony, and exotic birds were singing in the trees of the garden below.

Robin took a measured step forward. He felt dizzy, legs were slightly shaking, and he walked very, very slowly towards the balcony. He stopped near the window and looked outside, his eyes taking in the mystic, almost fairy-tale views of the holy city – the Temple Mount. The soft morning light colored elaborate temples and elegantly constructed palaces white, yellow, coral, and seashell pink.

Robin had never been in Jerusalem before, and with great delight he thought that the holy city was a beautiful temple-filled metropolis that was grander than everything he had seen before. The city was bustling with activity as merchants loaded up whatever they could grab and pilgrims crowded on the square creating long queues to the churches. Pilgrims carried all their possessions with them instead of leaving them in safekeeping, making the environment messier.

"So you have awoken," Djaq said in a high voice. She had already been standing near the door for some time, observing Robin.

Robin swung around and looked at her. "Djaq!"

A fresh twinge of nervousness went through her. "Are you feeling well to stand and walk? Are you in pain? Do you need something?" She hurried to him, her face kind and concerned.

He chuckled. "Oh, so many questions all at once."

Slipping her arms about his back, Djaq cautiously pushed him forward. "Robin, you have just awoken from deep slumber. You are still weak and need rest."

Robin obeyed her and walked to the bed. "I am feeling quite well. The pain is less severe than before."

She pushed open the curtains and helped him lie down on the bed. "Is your head clear?"

He reclined back into the cushions. "I can think… for the first time in many days."

She landed on the edge of the bed. "Good."

"In the past weeks, I lived in the unreal world."

"Quite the opposite, Robin. Everything was real – your wound, pain, and fever," Djaq told him. "When pain was too much to bear, we gave you herbs – opiates – to spare you agony." She lowered her voice. "We feared that you would not survive." She felt her arms trembling as she envisioned Robin shaking in convulsions and moaning in pain.

Robin gave her an incredulous look. "Was I really so bad?"

Djaq's face darkened as memories about the tragic death in Imuiz entered her mind. "You died in Imuiz, but then you came back from the dead; now you are not dead."

A muscle jumped along his jaw. "But how is that possible?"

"It is difficult to explain, but at times, very rarely, it happens," Djaq continued. "Your body went through a deep shock after you pulled your scimitar out of your stomach. We thought you died… but it was only a temporary shutdown of your body." She cast a guilty glance at Robin. "It is my fault… I should have checked on you again, but then a sandstorm came, and we had to return to Acre. And then you disappeared."

Robin shook his head. "It is not your fault. Don't blame yourself."

"But I have to. If I understood you were alive, I would have spared many people much pain. Now you would have been in Acre–"

Robin cut her off, taking her small hand in his and entwining their fingers. "Djaq, you saved my life, and I thank you for that from the bottom of my heart." His eyes shone with gratitude.

"Don't thank me." A large smile blossomed on her dark face. "You saved my life as well."

"We saved each other."

She smiled cordially. "Exactly, Robin Hood."

Robin gazed away, his mind struggling to process Djaq's tale about his survival. Djaq left the chamber and returned in a few moments, carrying an alabaster cup in her hand. She brought the cup to Robin's mouth; Robin's lips were trembling as he drank the thick liquid, and felt the smoothness as it coursed its way down his throat.

"What is it? Again opiates?" he asked.

"No, Robin. We won't give you opiates anymore. It is just a tonic."

"Why no more opiates?"

"You may become addicted to them."

Robin brushed back a strand of his sandy hair from his forehead. "And what if pain returns?"

"It won't be as strong as it was before. You just have to be patient until your wound heals."

"Where is the king? Did he leave the Holy Land?" Robin felt his heart thudding anxiously.

"King Richard sailed from Acre in three weeks after regicide. The king hoped that they would find you before his departure, but they failed, though they were digging sand in Imuiz and in the desert."

"What about my wife?"

"Your friend, the Earl of Leicester, accompanied your wife to Aquitaine."

Robin was relieved. "Good. I trust Leicester."

"Where are Much, John, Allan, and the others?"

"Everyone is gone, Robin."

"Marian and… Gisborne?"

"The king pardoned Gisborne. Marian and Gisborne sailed from Acre in the company of Much, John, and Allan a week before the king's departure," Djaq responded. "There are many Crusaders in Acre, and Count Henry de Champagne is in command of them, except for the Knights Templar."

Robin thought back to the events on the day of regicide. "Edmund is… dead. Roger de Lacy was fine, but I didn't see Carter in the courtyard. Was someone else wounded in Imuiz?"

"Carter was almost fatally injured by the sheriff," Djaq reported. "Of course, he was not as bad as you were, but he was more likely to die than to survive. He is currently in Acre and sends you his greetings and warm wishes. Count de Champagne's physician and Friar Tuck are taking care of him."

Robin's eyes darkened in rage. "Vaisey caused too much harm. I swear that he will pay."

"Calm down. You may be in pain if you strain or overexcite yourself," Djaq forewarned. "Think about good things. An hour of vengeance will come later. You know that your wife was with child?"

"It means that she learnt about her condition after my death. Otherwise she would have told me great news," Robin mused, a sensual smile curving his mouth.

"And?"

"That's great!" Robin declared passionately. "So wonderful! Absolutely amazing!"

"That's really good news. Congratulations, Robin."

Robin was happy to learn that he would be a father soon. He had always been very careful not to get his lovers with child, but Melisende was his wife and no caution was necessary. He also thought of Marian and Gisborne, wondering whether they would ever have children; he was again jealous. For a while, they talked about Melisende and her health, as well as Richard's health. Djaq caught his eye, and he had that familiar unnerving feeling she read his thoughts.

Djaq eyed him suspiciously. "If you are thinking of Marian and Gisborne, then let me tell you that they don't have children, and perhaps they will never have them."

Robin blinked. "Why?"

"Marian had a grievous wound when she nearly died in the cave."

"You think she cannot conceive?" He was frustrated more than he wanted himself to be.

"I don't know but it is possible."

"It is sad," he said, a shade of heavy regret in his voice.

"I don't know for sure. I told Marian about that."

Robin glanced away, not knowing what to think about the revelation. He shifted on the bed and groaned painfully, biting his lower lip. "How much time has passed since regicide?"

"Almost four months since you were stabbed."

He raised his head and their eyes locked. "Four months! So much time!"

"It will be four months in a week," Djaq clarified.

"Then it is already November," Robin articulated.

"Yes."

"Oh!" Robin sighed. "I spent my birthday in fever."

She favored him with her sweetest smile. "Yes, Robin. But it could have been much, much worse."

"It is so strange." Robin smiled, but then his face quickly turned serious. He was twenty seven now and he was alive, though he could have easily been dead at twenty six.

"I understand. It is not easy," Djaq said kindly. "You had many adventures after your disappearance from Imuiz. When you were delivered to Jerusalem, you were more dead than alive. You had a high fever, and infection was slowly killing you. We hoped that your fever would pass, but it didn't happen, for the wound was… infected and your flesh was rotting in the wound area, and we had to make an urgent surgery to save your life."

Robin shuddered. "To cut the wound open?"

"Yes." She gave a nod. "Actually, twice."

He gasped in disbelief. "Really?"

"Yes, Robin. You will have quite an ugly scar when the wound heals."

"I don't care. I can live with one more scar."

"Robin, we haven't informed King Richard about your survival. Should we do this now?"

"No, don't send a message," Robin said firmly.

"Your wife was in grief. King Richard was in deep mourning for you," Djaq pointed out. "Marian was beyond herself in grief. Even Gisborne seemed to be shocked and grieved too."

Robin cleared his throat nervously. "They can wait for several months before they see me again."

"What do you mean?" Djaq stared at him with apparent confusion.

Robin arched a brow. "So nobody in England knows that I am alive?"

"Nobody," she echoed.

"Then they shouldn't know," he said categorically. "I don't want to sound cruel, but the king, my wife, and everyone else have already accepted my death. They can wait."

"Why, Robin?"

"For many reasons." Robin paused, collecting her thoughts. "King Richard is on his way home. We don't know which route he took and where he headed; he could have gone to Aquitaine and only then to England. The Black Knights can intercept the message, and I don't want them to know that I survived."

"I think I understand. You want to become the invisible enemy of the Black Knights?"

"There are men who like to underrate women's intelligence, but I am not among them," Robin said in a voice that quivered with laughter. "Intelligence is definitely one of your very many good qualities."

Djaq laughed, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Oh, Robin. You are certainly feeling better."

"Much better," he confirmed. "When can I travel to England?"

She looked thoroughly alarmed. "Uh, Robin! Again your stubbornness and restlessness!" She frowned. "You cannot travel even to Acre in the next month at least. Don't even think about this."

"Really?" Robin sounded only half-certain. "But I must!"

"No! No! No!" Djaq repeated several times. "You are not strong. I don't want you to die on the ship. You will leave Jerusalem only over my dead body."

"I must go back!" Robin protested earnestly.

"Robin, you are not fit to travel and it is not a matter for discussion. I won't let you kill yourself." Djaq glanced sternly at him. "None of your pleas will help you."

"Fine," Robin conceded, frustrated.

During the next week, Robin stayed bedridden against his will because the only thing he wanted was to travel to Acre and then sail from the Holy Land. Djaq gave Robin some special concoctions that either simply calmed him or made him fall asleep. Robin was restless and increasingly; he slept badly, his nights haunted by dreams about blood and death, each of them laced with dread. He often asked Djaq when he would be able to travel and always received the same answer – they needed to wait more.

In about two weeks, Robin felt that he was strong enough to make a short walk within the walls of the holy city despite Djaq's protests. In the morning, he wrapped himself into an ankle-length, loose robe made out of the finest blue silk in Arabic fashion; it was adorned with diamonds and sapphires. Not wishing to go outside with an uncovered face, he wore a ghutra on his head. Despite his desire to be accompanied only by Djaq and Will, Prince Malik gave Robin five men who also wore disguise, having exchanged the form of Saladin's royal guards for expensive clothes in Arabic fashion.

Looking around, Robin was slowly making his way through the narrow streets of Jerusalem, feeling as if he were dreaming that he finally saw the holy city after so many years of brutal fighting for this place. He had already been in Acre and Jaffa, but Jerusalem was very different: houses were generally better built, and streets were cleaner than in Acre and Jaffa. Jerusalem probably was the most amazing city among all the Oriental cities, and Robin was amazed that it was buzzing with greater activity than he had seen in Acre; he was swept over by the cacophony of voices speaking in different languages, mostly in Arabic which he knew very well. He thought that the streets were as narrow as in Acre, and they were very rudely paved, like in all cities in the East.

After many crooked turnings in the maze of streets and lanes, they arrived in the Christian quarter in the northwestern corner of the ancient city; they came there at Robin's request, for he had long wanted to visit this place. They passed through many streets of the quarter which extended from the New Gate in the north, along the old walls of the city and up to the Western Wall route in the south. Despite the fact that it was the Christian quarter, the houses there were mainly built in the typical Arabic fashion, though Robin noticed more western-looking buildings there.

Soon Robin, Djaq, and Will already strolled aimlessly in the area of ancient Jerusalem that was built upon several hills easily distinguishable through the natural surface. In this area, the most interesting objects were the Temple Mount and the Church of the Holy Sepulchre for Christians. Robin was mostly interested in the Temple Mount, for he had always associated the holy city with this place where at least four religious traditions – Judaism, Christianity, Roman religion, and Islam – had been present.

As they finally were in the area of the Temple Mount, Robin felt his heart thundering in his chest as he ran his eyes over three monumental structures – the al-Aqsa Mosque, the holiest place in Judaism where the Temple had stood before being destroyed by the Romans and where Muhammad had led prayers until the seventeenth month after the emigration from Mecca; the Dome of the Rock, the significance of which stemmed from religious traditions regarding the rock and bore great importance for Jews, Christians, and Muslims; and the Dome of the Chain, which had been built by the Ummayads and had become a Christian chapel under the Crusaders.

Soon they found themselves near the spot to which every pilgrim first directed his steps – the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, one of Christianity's holiest sites, in the heart of the Christian quarter. It was the place of crucifixion and tomb of Jesus of Nazareth. Pilgrims could come there from every direction through the many surrounding streets and through the nearby small bazaars filled with ragged Saracen women, vendors of silks, vegetables and snails. As there were many pilgrims crowded near the entrance to the Holy Sepulchre, Robin and his friends decided not to go inside.

"I have never thought that I would be in the center of Jerusalem," Robin told Will and Djaq as he swept his eyes over the Temple Mount.

Djaq stared at Robin. "You fought for the possession of the holy city, Robin. And now you are here." She cocked her head at one side. "How do you feel about that now?"

Robin just stared at Djaq for an instant, his jaw clenched under the force of some strong emotion that coursed through him, a great forceful flood that scoured his insides like acid, eating away at him until he glanced away. "It is strange," he answered with a deep sigh. "At the beginning of the Crusade, I thought it was my duty to conquer Jerusalem. I dreamt of walking down the streets of the holy city. Now it seems unreal and incredible that I am here…"

"Robin, I have the same feelings, although I have never fought in the Holy Land," Will said, his gaze embracing the Temple Mount.

Robin stiffened, directing his gaze at his friends. "I also feel uncomfortable… because the Holy Land and Jerusalem belong to the Saracens, the Jews, and the Christians – to everyone. Now I understand this as clearly as never before." His voice was nearly rough with feeling.

Djaq turned her gaze at the group of the pilgrims; they were obviously English. "These people must be grateful to you and your friends for a chance to come here."

Crowds of pilgrims gathered near the Church of the Holy Sepulchre and the Dome of the Chain. They were mainly Englishmen and those who lived in various parts of the Angevin Empire. The French were not allowed to have a free passage to Jerusalem because of King Richard's conflict with King Philippe.

Robin laughed; his heart was full of joy and pride. "Well, I cannot deny that I am pleased to see the fruits of my labors." He feigned frustration. "It is a pity that these people have no idea who I am."

Will smiled. "Oh, Robin, Robin."

Djaq threw her head back and laughed. "Robin, you are becoming yourself."

Robin's eyes twinkled in mischief. "Yeah, I have a vain nature."

Djaq placed a hand on Robin's shoulder, looking into his eyes. "Robin, I feel most honored to be here with you of all men, for you helped make peace in the Holy Land." She patted Robin's shoulder fondly. "You cannot imagine how grateful I am for everything you did for my countrymen and for me. You stopped bloodshed, and now we have peace at least for some time."

"I did what I wanted to do," Robin said in a silken tone. "I swore I would do everything to make peace with Saladin when the king recalled me back to Acre."

"Thank you for peace." Djaq smiled, regretting that Robin couldn't see her bright smile beneath her veil. "I should have thanked your friends – the Earl of Leicester, Count de Champagne, and Carter – when we were in Acre, but days after regicide were so difficult that I had no chance to do that."

Robin took her hands in his. "As for your gratitude to me, may I remind you that you saved my life? You owe me nothing."

Djaq squeezed his hand in a gesture of a friendly affection. "And I am so happy that you survived."

"Only thanks to you and Yussuf." Robin experienced an enormous burst of pure emotion at the thought of his death and resurrection.

"I am sorry to interrupt you, but I think we should go," Will intervened. "There are so many pilgrims here that our presence makes this place even more overcrowded."

Robin closed his eyes and tilted his face to the rays of the sun. "I agree."

"Robin, are you feeling worse?" Djaq asked worriedly.

Robin shook his head, smiling. "No, I am fine. Just a little tired."

"I told you, Robin, that it is too early for you to freely walk in the city," Djaq scolded him. "Tomorrow you will stay in your bed even if I have to chain you to a bedpost."

Robin chuckled. "I will do as you wish, the best doctor in the Holy Land."

Will smiled. "He is definitely becoming himself, which means that he is recovering."

"He will feel worse if he strains himself too much," Djaq grumbled.

"Don't worry about me, lads," Robin retorted. "I promise to be an obedient patient." His eyes shone with a dangerous light. "I am very interested in my speedy recovery, for I have much work to do."

Will and Djaq shared uneasy glances. They knew what Robin had meant – he wanted to deal with the Black Knights by himself if at least one of them would be alive by the time of his return to England.

Djaq was very worried about Robin's emotional state, perhaps even more than about his physical condition. "Robin, King Richard will punish traitors by the time we come back home."

Robin shrugged. "We must be prepared for everything. Nobody knows what happened in England in our absence and how things will play out after our return." Despite his knowledge that King Richard already was on the way to England, he felt that the danger to the king and his country was still as strong as his hatred for Vaisey and the Black Knights.

"Will, what do you think?" Djaq hoped that he would broach the subject she didn't dare touch.

Will seized the meaning of her question at once. "Robin, what are you planning to do?"

"I may be obnoxious and I may be kind, you know. I am the most unusual man in the whole world, after all." Robin was being arrogant as usual, and he also was being whimsical, but in the undertone in his metallic voice – barely concealed hatred and anger – there was a message. "There is something else. I must tell you that I will do what I want and what I consider the best for England, for the king, and for myself."

Djaq sighed deeply; there was a choice here. Perhaps to speak about the implications of changes in his personality in the face of his near-death experience, for what she knew from practice could make Robin's life less of a burden. But Robin wouldn't listen to her now, she was sure of that. "I have no doubt that a man of your experience can take the best course action."

Robin seemed more relaxed. "Well, half plans and people's hearts were ever my strong suits."

It was Will who didn't get the hint Robin had given. "Robin, your half plans may one day kill us!" he said so loud that the two Saracen passers-by turned their heads, searching for the source of English voices. "We shouldn't have chased after the sheriff in Imuiz after we saved the king from Saladin's imposter! If we hadn't gone there, the king wouldn't have been wounded and you wouldn't have died either!"

"Will, please..." Djaq was shaking her head, but her beloved didn't comprehend that the situation was fraught with danger of causing Robin's not-so-tight control slip.

"Robin, you always command us to go here and there," Will snapped. "You never even ask what we think; you are a commander and everyone must blindly obey you."

Robin was barely holding onto his temper. "Something else, Will?"

"Your half plans are not always perfect," Will continued, gazing into Robin's eyes. "I don't have your experience of a soldier, but I understood that we should have returned to the camp instead of going to Imuiz. You were not thinking straight when you ordered to pursue the sheriff, wishing to capture him and Gisborne, or perhaps Gisborne even more." He raised his voice. "We followed you – we will always follow you, but I don't want Djaq, you, or anyone else to be killed because of your hasty decisions."

Will did need to share with Robin his fears. When they had lived in the woods, he had naively believed in their victory over the sheriff without looses among them and had never thought of death. After the events in Imuiz, he was able to see with a breathtaking clarity that if Robin could die, then anyone else could be killed too. Out of all of them, he was more worried about Djaq, for he loved her too much to lose her in their fight, all the more for the king who wasn't worthy of their loyalty.

Djaq was staring at her feet as if something about her silk slippers displeased her. There would be no result from confrontation now, at least while Robin was still so emotionally fragile and unbalanced. In the days since his awakening, his mood swings were terrible as he could be the calmest man one hour and then turn into that angry terror the next as he gushed about the Black Knights and traitors who deserved death and only death. Yet, there always was a layer of hidden vulnerability about Robin that revealed itself in his confusion and fear only some people – she and Malik – could see in his eyes.

Robin said nothing for a moment and then very deliberately turned his gaze at one of nearby buildings. Thoughts chased themselves through his head as he thought back to the days of their adventures in Sherwood. It was true that Robin had never delegated authority of a leader to anyone in the gang, even to Much who was an accomplished warrior after his service in the Holy Land. He had never thought that the outlaws had objected, but apparently he had been mistaken. But the remembrance about his mistakes – he knew that he shouldn't have pursued the sheriff then without an army of the king's guards –was a much more painful blow than Will's accusations of being a selfish leader.

Robin swung his gaze to Will; his face was closed tight with anger. "It seems, Will, that you have accumulated much bitterness towards me," he said in a chilly voice. "I am sorry if I was a selfish leader who disappointed you. For the lack of understanding that I was so blind, I must ask you to grant me your forgiveness." He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts; his voice was low and deep as he went on. "But I won't ask your forgiveness for going to Imuiz because nothing happened to you there."

Will swallowed hard as he heard Robin's frigid tone. His heart sank; perhaps he shouldn't have told his leader and friend all these things. "Robin, I didn't mean to–"

"Enough," Robin interrupted him. "Let's return to the palace." Then he turned his back to his friends and walked away. The guards trailed behind him.

"It is not a good time for such conversations, for Robin is not ready for them," Djaq opined, shaking her head disapprovingly. "Robin's anger masked his pain. He knows all his mistakes, but he never speaks about them. I fear that the effect of death on him is deeper than I thought."

There were guilt and shame in Will's eyes. "I was a fool. I should have been silent." He took a step to her. "But I was so worried about you! The sheriff could stab you instead of Robin."

Djaq flashed a vibrant smile. "I know, Will." She sighed. "We need to go."

He nodded. "Yes."

Robin was nearby, waiting for Will and Djaq; as he noticed them, he simply went ahead, and everyone followed him. On the way back to Saladin's palace, Robin engaged Will and Djaq into a lively conversation, as if nothing had happened: his mood swings were severe, and his friends only looked at him with suspicion. Truth be told, Robin's lighthearted mood existed on the surface, and beneath lay serious and vengeful thoughts as sophisticated plans of revenge against Sheriff Vaisey and the Black Knights began to form in his mind.

* * *

><p><em>I hope you truly enjoyed this chapter and the plot.<em>

_First of all, I want to apologize for not updating this story for so long. I was quite busy, and I wasn't feeling very well in the past weeks, but I'm better now, so I can work on my writing projects again._

_I hope that you liked the introduction of Meg into the storyline. In this story/novel, she has a very interesting background: she is not a country girl as she was portrayed on the show, and she is Queen Eleanor's spy, her father is very close to King Richard._

_Guy finally had a long-awaited final confrontation with the sheriff. I hope you liked some insight into Vaisey's life: the sheriff loved Ghislane, but she rejected him and he spread vile rumors about her to take revenge for rejection; he was also hated by his own father, which made him so vile and cruel. Now you understand why the sheriff hates all women so much and calls them lepers. Did Guy kill the sheriff? I cannot tell you that, but I will be interested to know your thoughts._

_Marian and Guy are separated, perhaps for some time or perhaps forever, I cannot tell you my secret right now. Dark drama will unfold around Guy and Marian in part 3 "Fight for Peace". Please don't be angry with me, for I promise that Marian/Guy storyline is not finished yet._

_In the Middle Ages, marriages could really be annulled on the grounds of pre-contract. For example, King Richard III used the same ground to have Elizabeth Woodville's marriage to his brother, King Edward IV, annulled, though I actually don't believe that in this case pre-contract existed. Most likely it was a sheer fiction to give a veneer of legitimacy to the usurpation of the throne by Richard._

_Robin fans should be happy and don't need to suffer anymore because Robin has emerged from oblivion and he is not going to die. I know that you cannot see the changes in Robin's character just in one chapter, but some of them are already obvious. Robin is very fragile and vulnerable, and he is very unbalanced, which is proved by his conversation with Will. In the next chapters, you will see the development of Robin's disillusionment arc._

_There are only four chapters left in part 2 "Mysteries Unveiled." The story/novel will be updated every month and will be completed by the New Year. In January or in February, I will start uploading the chapters in part 3 of "Fight for Peace."_

_**Reviews are always appreciated, including well-grounded criticism.**_

_If you find any typos and/or mistakes here, please let me know about them in a private message._

_Thank you for reading this chapter. Have a lovely weekend._

_Yours faithfully, Penelope Clemence_


	15. Chapter 14 Earning Redemption

**Chapter 14**

**Earning Redemption**

The feast in the great hall was over, and Isabella of Gisborne was waiting for Prince John in her chamber. For their night date, she chose the most delicate, feminine and wicked garment she had ever seen in her life – a nightgown made out of the finest-spun silk, in a shade that rivaled the color of her steel blue eyes, with a deep inset of blue lace across the bosom and with a V-shaped deep-bosom neckline. She had to please the prince and thank him for what he had done for her tonight; she also wanted something else from him – to be free from her husband, and she would get what she craved.

Almost mesmerized by thoughts of her triumph, Isabella stood near the huge bed, dreaming of power and wealth. Then she heard the outer door open and shut, and she swung around. Her mouth went dry as she stared at Prince John who stood at the doorway, his hands in the pockets of his red silk night robe. The robe clung naturally to every line of his body, every curve, and every swell was clearly outlined. It was easy to realize that John was naked under the robe.

Prince John stared at Isabella, thinking that he was a lucky man to have her in his bed. She was very beautiful, with her steel blue eyes and her voluptuous body. He liked her cheeks flushing a shade of rose no flower could match for loveliness. She understood him so well, and she was using him for her purposes, but he was using her too. He had never met woman as ambitious, cunning, devious, crafty, and fierce in her desires as Isabella was – she was so much like him. He believed that she deserved to live a wonderful, glorious life with him, even though he couldn't marry her.

From the very first moment John had set his eyes on Isabella, the wife of Squire Thornton, one of the newly recruited Black Knights, he burned for her and missed her when they were separated. Now John again hankered to feel her skin against his own and to see the flames of desire in her eyes at a touch of his hand to her flesh.

Prince John laughed and walked to Isabella. He pulled her into his arms and brushed his mouth teasingly against her full lips. "I was waiting for this minute for so long," he whispered huskily.

Isabella smiled with a provocative smile. "I was waiting for you, my king."

She didn't love Prince John, but she was attracted to him and seduced by the idea of amassing power and wealth. He was an experienced lover, passionate, affectionate, and caring. John was so different from her husband, who had continuously raped her and had beaten her throughout the long years of her dreadful marriage that was like a purgatory that allowed no soul to leave its wretched borders until it had thoroughly suffered some kind of penance. Besides, being the prince's love interest was a feather in her cap, and she thrived obscenely in his attention.

There was a frankly carnal glint in John's eyes. His hands caressed her back and moved to cup her breasts, and then he pressed her hard to himself. "Well, then, I suppose I will be rewarded this night for my patience and loyalty to our deal."

His mouth captured hers, his hands lowering to her hips and pulling her firmly against him. She was pliant and breathless when he finally lifted his mouth from hers, blood thudding through her body.

"Milord, there is another thing."

"Anything to please a lady!"

Isabella glanced into his eyes. "I am still a married woman, milord."

"Ah, your husband… You still want to get rid of him?"

Her eyes sparkled in the candlelight. "I want Squire Thornton dead," she said in a hissing tone. "You promised that he would die if I checked loyalties of Vaisey and Gisborne."

"And you played your role very well, my beloved Isabella."

She smiled with a satisfied smile. "And?"

"I myself will kill him!" Prince John pledged, brushing his lips against her ear.

Isabella was stunned into kind of pleasurable immobility, for the prince's kiss was hungry and possessive, even more possessive than kisses he had given her before. His lips, far too soft for male lips, moved over hers with gentle persuasion and firm insistence. His breathing mingled with hers.

Then the kiss ended, Isabella looked into the prince's eyes. "My king, are you telling me the truth that you will kill Squire Thornton?"

"Why are you bewildered, my love?" His voice was husky, his eyes dark and knowing. Lifting his hand to cup her cheek, he touched the pad of his thumb to her lower lip. "Have I ever deceived you?"

She smiled brightly. "No, you haven't. Never ever."

John looked thoughtful for a second, his mind plotting new schemes. "You once told me that Thornton sleeps with both women and men."

Isabella stiffened. "I hate him. I hate him with all my heart."

"Now you have your brother to repay him for everything bad he did to you," he said with a dark smirk ear to ear.

"Thank you, my king."

"Welcome, Isabella."

"What of my husband, sire?"

He smiled cunningly. "If you want to humiliate him and kill him, I can order to arrest him and accuse him of indulging himself into sin." He laughed. "Imagine what a grand execution we can make for him."

She arched a brow. "Is that such a crime if he is a sodomite?"

"Of course, my dear," John assured. "The Catholic Church prohibits it. If someone of even high-ranked nobles is accused of sodomy, he would eventually meet his death on the scaffold."

Isabella was pleased. A traitorous shiver of sadistic pleasure rippled through her at the thought that Squire Thornton would be publicly humiliated. Yet, she didn't want to humiliate herself by letting the world know that he husband was a cruel monster who liked boys in a bed; she had to keep silent about her unfortunate past. "I believe that his public humiliation will also be my disgrace."

His thumb traced the smaller curves of her upper lip. "I agree, sweetheart. I don't want them to know what this beast did to you." His face darkened with rage. "I, too, want him dead."

"I want him dead more."

He raised one eyebrow. "Then I will kill him myself before my coronation, when you come to London next time. I will make him scream and writhe in pain before he dies. Would that be enough for you?"

She smiled. "More than enough."

He shoved back a lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead. "You cannot imagine how much I will miss you after my departure to London. Ah, I would have stayed here for another week, but I cannot!"

Amusement glinted in her eyes. "I will miss you, too."

John read her mind. "You doubt that I will miss you, don't you?"

"You have many mistresses, milord."

Prince John wanted Isabella with his entire being. No matter what she said or did, his body reacted to her manipulations with fierce desire to take her and make her his in all senses. Her seductive voice sent little frissons of pleasure and desire up and down his spine. Every time she gave him a dazzling smile, passion overcame him, and his loins swelled with heart-stopping desire. She was a witch and a temptress. He dreamt of kissing her and touching her perfect body; he wanted her with despair and fierceness and possessiveness, which he felt for a few of his lovers.

And Isabella of Gisborne was so beautiful and so seductive. He had known only one woman who was more beautiful than Isabella – his own cousin, Lady Melisende Plantagenet, Countess of Huntingdon and Countess de Bordeaux, who was now carrying Robin of Locksley's child.

Straightening his shoulders, John fixed his mistress with a haughty glance. "I am the future King of England. I can do everything I want. I can have anyone in my bed. My subjects and ladies love me."

She tensed, then relaxed, reminding herself that she was playing with him. "Sire, but I surely love you more than others." She took one of his hands in her and kissed his fingers. "I have proved you that I can do everything for you, my king. I even went to the Holy Land on an important and dangerous errand." She gazed into his eyes. "I would have done everything for you."

"Isabella, you have proved your loyalty," he said sincerely. "I will also do everything for you."

She sucked in an uneven breath. "Thank you, my king."

"There has never been anyone like you in my bed, my Isabella," the prince whispered against her mouth. "You are a concoction of what I love in a woman."

Prince John pressed her closer, his hand sliding down her back and flattening her against his hard body as he rained down kisses, licks, and bites on her neck, her lips, and her cheeks.

"And Lady Amicia de Beaumont," she murmured against his cheek. "Isn't she better than me in a bed?"

John drew back slightly. "Amicia is a good lover and a rational adviser, but she is not you."

She smiled at his words. "So I am better, am I?"

He grinned as he drew her into his arms. "Amicia is a skilled lover. She is beautiful and kind and clever. She has been my mistress for more than six years." His voice took a lower octave. "But I don't let her meddle into the affairs of the internal circle, like I am letting you." His grin grew wider. "She is not among the Black Knights, and she will never be one of us."

"So you will discard her soon?" she said curiously.

Prince John brushed her hair from her cheek as his eyes searched her face. "Why should I get rid of Amicia?" He laughed. "She is a tigress in a bedroom."

"My king, you are so virile," she murmured with a sweet smile, but inwardly she cringed in disgust at the thought of how many women slept with the prince.

"I am the best lover, sweetheart," he whispered against her mouth. "Let me give you pleasure. Only pleasure." He smiled cordially. "I am not your husband. I will never hurt you, my love."

His body on fire, John lifted Isabella and carried her to the bed. He frantically tore at Isabella's clothing, and his seeking hands touched the warm, flesh of her bosom and denied no further exploration. Catching her hands in his, he pulled them behind her back and held them prisoner, his other hand caressing and fondling her breasts through the silk material of her nightgown. Isabella groaned and pushed herself against him, melting with the hot desire that coursed through her. A lecher by nature, John always liked playful and exotic lovemaking, and Isabella enjoyed it, too.

With her arms held prisoner behind her, Isabella could only twist in his embrace, the greedy hunger for him growing with every passing moment. John disentangled from her and took a step back, his lips stretched wide in a grin. A low growl erupted from him as he lay back on the bed and lifted her atop of him, with her nightgown bunched up around her waist.

She straddled him and began to slowly grind herself on top of him. John entered her in one powerful thrust, and Isabella moaned excitedly, her head thrown back in mindless rapture. She joined her lover in the eager race as she drove them both towards fathomless release. Soon, they convulsed on the bed as they reached their scarlet oblivion.

"I am impressed, my beauty," Prince John murmured thickly against her lips. His breath, warm and wine scented, wafted against her skin. "We have the whole night to pleasure each other."

Her mouth red from his kisses, Isabella shook her head. "One night is not enough with you, my king."

"Say it again!" The prince's face suddenly hard with desire, his lips were still faintly touching her cheek.

"Long live King John!" Isabella cried out earnestly, and happily kissed his chin and jaw.

"Oh, long live me." Her flattery inflamed him, and John kissed her so passionately that all coherent thoughts fled, and he drove himself into her, the whole of him fixed on pleasure from their encounter.

Later, Isabella lay in the prince's arms, her mood elevated but her heart heavy. She was only grateful to him for the power he gave her and for the fact that she would be given her freedom soon, when the prince would dispose of her husband. John loved her as he loved many other mistresses – he loved neither of them and only lusted after them. She didn't want to be one of many mistresses who entertained the prince in his bedchamber, but she would rather be a lover of _a royal wastrel_, who squandered his God-given royal inheritance in reckless living than a demeaned wife of a callous beast.

But Isabella wasn't happy. She wanted to be loved – to be loved truly, utterly, and unconditionally. Her most cherished dream was to be the only true love in someone's life, like Robin of Locksley was rumored to have been devoted to Lady Marian of Knighton. Rumors were that Robin had fallen in love with his new wife in the months preceding his death, and Isabella didn't doubt that it was possible, for she had seen Melisende only once and had been impressed by Melisende's beauty. She envied both Marian and Melisende that they had Robin's heart at least for some time.

She often remembered Robin after his death in the Holy Land, and she regretted that her actions had contributed so much to Robin's death. She had been smitten by Robin when they had met in Acre, for he was a handsome, compassionate, tender, and noble-hearted. He had saved her life from the sheriff in the desert, where he had dragged her before Vaisey had learnt about her association with Prince John, and she was still grateful to Robin. Robin Hood was a man whom she would have married with great pleasure and would have never let him go. She could have loved Robin of Locksley if he had developed a bit of affection for her and had displayed it, but he loved his wife and perhaps Marian as well, she thought bitterly.

There was another man whom Isabella often remembered – Sir Roger de Tosny, Baron de Conches. When she had been a twelve-years-old girl, she had been elated every time when she had seen him in the courtyard of his huge and gorgeous castle in Conches. She had been extremely happy when Roger had begun to display his affection for her, giving her small presents, inviting her for a ride, and giving her his a large and kind smile. He had liked talking to her about her daily activities, her interests, and her plans for the future. A dull ache gripped her chest at the memory of Roger; Isabella believed that she could have loved him if Guy hadn't run from Roger to Vaisey, whom she hated with all her heart.

But for now Isabella was content. She had Guy in her possession – in the underground dungeons under the Castle of Nottingham. She was Prince John's mistress. She was the Sheriff of Nottingham. Vaisey was dead and Guy would soon pay for her pain and misery. She wished she could say that she was happy at the moment, but she wasn't.

Unlike the lovers in the prince's bedchamber, Marian had a long and difficult night. Her face was decidedly grim as she sat on the bed with both of her arms chained to the wall. Her mind was racing as she tried to design a plan of escape at the first available opportunity. For some time, she was positive that she would flee somehow, but then her spirits plummeted. It seemed impossible because she was not only chained, but also heavily guarded as if she were a more dangerous prisoner than Guy. If she couldn't escape, then she would have to travel to London while Guy would probably remain in Nottingham and would be executed by his own sister.

Dawn was less than an hour away when Prince John came to Marian's room. The prince had already left Isabella's chambers, had a bath, and changed his clothes for, now wearing an expensive and dandyish crimson and blue brocade doublet, with a high jeweled collar. Smiling at his prisoner, John watched Marian in silence for a long time, admiring her beauty and actually thinking that it was not a bad idea to sleep with her. Sitting on her bed, Marian also observed him, aware of the danger her life was in and of the prince's heated looks stares at her, but she couldn't avoid his glance.

"Sire, are you serious that you will take me to London and marry me off to the Earl of Buckingham?" Marian broke the silence, her eyes challenging the prince.

"Good's blood, yes!" Prince John said with a laugh. "I am just surprised that you don't approve of such a brilliant marriage." A teasing glint in his eyes, he added, "Or do you love Guy of Gisborne?"

"It is my deal, milord," she replied.

John flashed a crooked smile. "Lady Marian, this is getting more interesting! Maybe your sympathies are with the tragically deceased Robin Hood, not with Guy of Gisborne?" He chuckled. "Hood was a handsome man, and I have heard that my cousin Melisende is madly in love with him."

"Why do you say these things to me?" she asked breathlessly.

He grinned, a sparkle in his eyes. "Well, Lady Isabella is very frank with me; we are very close with her. She told me about your delicate situation – you used to be in a dangerous love triangle with Hood and Gisborne." His grin widened just a bit. "Robin of Locksley _was_ a fortunate soul, and Guy of Gisborne_ is_ a lucky man, too."

Marian tried very hard to be insulted by the taunt in his voice, but mingled with her feelings of insult was a giddy sensation of embarrassment. Ignoring the flutter in her stomach, she risked a glance at him and then wished she hadn't – the teasing expression in his eyes increased her nervousness.

"Sire, is this betrothal agreement real?" she changed the topic.

"Yes, it is, my lady. Your own father agreed to this match."

Marian gasped as she struggled to believe that Sir Edward Fitzwalter had permitted the Black Knight to marry her. Had her father been in a right mind or was he possessed by a black despair when he had agreed to sell her in exchange for their illusionary freedom? Her father had been aware of her feelings for Robin and of their clandestine rendezvous in the forest. And, yet, Marian wasn't as stunned as she could have been if she hadn't known about Sir Edward's disapproval of Robin's outlawry. But King Richard had told her that Edward had always known about Robin's was true parentage and had wanted her to marry Robin. She was confused, and the truth about her betrothal to Buckingham was shrouded in the mists of mystery.

"I don't want to marry the man whom I despise," she declared.

He let her comment pass, and a sardonic look crossed his face. "You despise him?" he inquired. "I know that Buckingham has lived scandalously. Waves of shocking gossip about him spread from person to person at my court, but he is a grand match for any woman."

"I am not all women, and I am not an object," Marian parried, her eyes dark with deep emotion.

John leaned forward and gave Marian's dark head an affectionate caress. "Oh, no doubt you are right. After all, you captured the hearts of Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborne."

She snuggled closer to the wall, trying to stay away from John's hands. "I would be grateful if you stop treating me like one of your mistresses, milord. You have Lady Isabella and others at your feet."

"My lady, your dislike of me is irrational!" John averred almost piously, a wicked twinkle in his eyes. "You would have loved to have me in your bed. And if I want to take you, you will be mine! Even Lord Buckingham won't protest because he is a clever, ambitious man who wants to be in my highest favor." His expression changed into feigned innocence. "Buckingham loves me, and you should love me, too."

"I won't marry this man! Never!"

"You will marry Buckingham. He wants you, Lady Marian, and I owe him," John said straightforwardly.

"Owe him?" She looked dumbfounded.

A lazy smile on his mouth, the prince absentmindedly sat down on the edge of the bed. "Sheriff Vaisey and Lord Buckingham _are_ my most loyal men among the Black Knights; Vaisey _was_ very loyal to me, too." The shout of laughter followed. "With their help, I will be King of England very soon."

Marian regarded him with horrified revulsion etched into her features. "What did you do to King Richard? Did you send buy loyalty of one of the king's loyal men to kill him in his sleep?"

"No. This time we were more creative. Maybe he has already suffered his final defeat."

She felt bile rise in her throat and tried to hold it back. "What did you do to him?"

John laughed. "Something very original, Lady Marian."

"He is your brother and your king!" Marian said breathlessly. "Why do you want him dead? Why?"

"I have always hated Richard, and my father wanted me to inherit the throne." John plastered an angelic smile on his mouth while his eyes were blazing with fire. "Richard won't return to England anytime soon."

Marian's brain was working hard. She couldn't help the king, at least before she was released from captivity, but she could try to help herself. "But why didn't the earl make his intentions known before?"

"At first, you, Lady Marian, were in Acre, and then the Earl of Buckingham was out of England. He was on an important errand for me; he spent much time with some of our international powerful allies, conducting negotiations on my behalf."

A knowing look crossed her face. "Does this errand concern King Richard?"

"Naturally!" John smiled wryly. "You are challenging me to a fight every minute. I like that, but I may become angry, and then you will see another side of me."

"I don't want to quarrel with you," Marian snapped back, trembling at the thought that the prince might have become cruel to her. Yet, she was a strong woman, stronger than her captor believed her to be; she didn't fear him. "Sire, I think that the real reason of your animosity towards your brother and your mother is your jealousy and envy. Their glory injures your pride."

"Envy and jealousy?" the prince growled with vexation. "Richard and I are different! How can you compare me with that _rude and pitiful unmanly man_ who even cannot get his wife with child?" He giggled. "Who knows what kind of leanings my brother has?"

Marian understood that the prince alluded to rumors that King Richard liked bedding men, but she chose to ignore that. "I saw King Richard in the Holy Land, and I liked him," she admitted readily.

"Bloody hell! You are too willful!" the prince chided her, and that sounded almost playfully. "Lord Buckingham will teach you lessons of obedience."

"Sire, you won't help me to break this freaky engagement?"

"On the contrary, Lady Marian, you will marry my dear Buckingham! I am going to contact the Archbishop of Canterbury and demand the annulment of your marriage to Gisborne."

His words gave her a great deal of shock, and she blanched. "No, you cannot!"

"I can and I will," the prince said slowly, with authority. "I need Buckingham's loyalty, and I will give him what he wants the most – you. And, by the way, I don't think you are in a position to demand anything, Lady Marian." His lips thinned in a tight line. "You were discovered to be consorting with a dangerous criminal – your lover. Now you are an outlaw if I don't say otherwise."

"King Richard pardoned Guy!"

John snorted. "Gisborne killed Lord Vaisey, which is a new crime after he received his pardon."

"What are you going to do to Guy?"

"I have appointed Isabella the Sheriff of Nottingham, and Gisborne is at her mercy, my lady." He chuckled. "I believe she has many interesting plans to make her _beloved _brother squirm in pain."

"Good Lord!" Marian exclaimed, aghast. "Please, release Guy! I will marry Lord Buckingham if you spare Guy's life!"

John was pleased. "I will command Isabella to delay Gisborne's execution until the day of your marriage to the Earl of Buckingham, which will be the day of my coronation." A gleeful expression suffused his features. "My coronation will take place in London in several months."

"Then Guy will live, right?"

"Yes, he will." He rose from the bed. "Isabella will be pleased to keep her brother in the dungeons for several months. I think she will mete out new sophisticated methods of torture to him."

Marian stared at John in horror. "It cannot be true, milord! She won't do this to Guy!"

"I am being very serious. I gave Isabella what she wanted; I cannot deny her request."

"Oh!"

"Ah! Ah! Ah!" he retorted back.

"This is monstrous!" she exploded. "I know that Isabella is a cold-hearted and cruel woman, but even she is not capable of such an atrocious deed! Guy is her brother!"

The prince seemed to be full of glee. "You don't know Isabella. She is capable of doing many things."

"Like you?"

He nodded. "Like me and many others."

"How can I persuade you to spare Guy's life, sire?"

"You can do nothing," John asserted uncompromisingly. "I can only promise that Gisborne has three-four months to live in the dungeons until my coronation." He gave her a fierce glare. "If you try to escape, then he will die." She wanted to play with him, and he figured out her intentions – he accepted her challenge. He was more cunning that she had ever imagined him to be, and he was also supremely confident in his destiny to be King of England.

"You have my word that I won't try to run away. I will marry Lord Buckingham," Marian muttered in a fierce, low tone, her head bowed; her visible submission bought her more time, she thought.

"Clever girl," the prince said blankly. "Have a pleasant time, my dear." Spinning on his heels, he stalked swiftly from the room, exceedingly pleased with what he had achieved.

Next morning, Prince John and his escort party departed from Nottingham to London; Lady Marian of Knighton left with the prince, and she was as heavily guarded as the worst criminal in England. John officially declared Isabella the Sheriff of Nottingham. The guards who had precisely served Vaisey swore their fealty to Isabella. Standing on the front step of the castle and smiling at the people, Isabella promised to be a fair and just sheriff and make arrests only as a last resort; she hankered to create and cultivate a high public opinion about herself, even though she wasn't going to adhere to high moral standards while serving legal processes, executing civil judgments, and exercising her power in any other way.

§§§

After Prince John's departure, in the great hall, Lady Isabella of Gisborne sat in the high-back chair that had been usually occupied by Sheriff Peter Vaisey of Nottingham.

Isabella smiled smugly, delighted that now she had power and wealth. She didn't have love, but she could live without it. Her heart was full of powerful, burning hatred as her mind drifted back to Guy. She hated Guy wholeheartedly and wanted him to suffer. She wanted her brother to be as unhappy as she had been, living in Shrewsbury, before Prince John had made her his mistress and had arranged her legal separation from Thornton. She wanted Guy dead.

Each and every detail of her dreadful marriage was engraved in her memory forever. Only Isabella, her unknown fiancé, Vaisey, and Guy had been present at the wedding ceremony that had resembled more a funeral than a wedding. Dressed in an old, battered gown of white, heavy linen and wearing a silver cross on her bosom, Isabella had been an image of a pious merchant's daughter, looking like an aristocratic lady only in her proud posture. Her gown had been supplied by Vaisey who had borrowed it from the owner of the inn where they had stayed and only on condition that it would be returned to him immediately after the wedding night.

They had had a small feast after mass and ceremony, when Isabella had accepted the congratulations of Vaisey who had laughed at her and had said that she would have an excellent wedding night. Guy had been quiet and somber, fearing to look at her. During the ceremony and later celebration, Isabella had kept her face impassive, but her eyes hadn't sparkled in joy when she had cast brief, sidelong glances at her brother. She had pretended that she had listened to Vaisey's despicable and caustic comments and Squire Thornton's senseless chatter, wishing that she to be far away from them.

Despite her unwillingness to marry Squire Thornton, Isabella had truly intended to be a good and dutiful wife; she had planned to follow the rules her mother had taught her in childhood. The wedding night had been the worst experience in her entire life: Isabella had been brutally beaten and raped by Thornton, who had enjoyed the pain he had inflicted on her during their first intimacy.

"I like that you have bled, Isabella. You bled because you were a virgin and because I struck you a lot," Squire Thornton told her after he had taken her maidenhead. "Now we can start again when you are clean and when I feel that I want to make you mine again, wife. I will have you for my pleasure and delight. You will bear my heirs, and I will be content."

Sick and groggy, Isabella had complained that she had been physically hurting, but Thornton had laughed at her and had slapped her hard against her cheek. She had never been beaten by Guy and her parents, and she had raged at her husband, but in response he had punched her in her face and had continued beating her until she had been unable to stand on her feet and even hadn't have a bit of strength to moan. Then Thornton had put her to bed and called a servant girl to tend to Isabella's bruises. The rapist had explained that he had only punished Isabella for her own good and that if she had obeyed his rules and orders, he would never beat her again.

When Isabella had awoken after her wedding night, Guy had already been gone. Guy hadn't been aware of what she had endured on the weeding night. Feeling abandoned by her brother, Isabella had cursed him many times in her mind, hating him with all her heart. They had left Angers for England on the same day, in spite of the fact that Isabella had felt unwell and had had to wear her hood outdoors; her blue-black bruises on her face had been very visible. Squire Thornton had brought his young wife to Shrewsbury, where he still owned lands and wealth, which he had inherited from his father.

Isabella had never been happy with her husband. Throughout their gruesome marriage, their bed had been a battlefield of hatred and violence as Thornton had sought to subjugate her and had derived pleasure from causing his wife – his victim – as much physical pain as possible. She had never enjoyed their wild encounters! Their nights had been typical: the man had tied Isabella's hands to a headboard and then had taken her in any way he wanted, beating her in the process. Twice he had beaten her almost to death! Moreover, Thornton had also forced her to satisfy his needs in the most immoral ways, which, in Isabella's opinion, her mother and any decent would have been ashamed of thinking about.

Isabella had found consolation in the fact that Squire Thornton had slept with servant girls and peasants from Shrewsbury and had also visited a local brothel. She had always been relieved when her husband had slept with someone else and left her in peace. Besides, Isabella had quickly discovered that Thornton had both female and male lovers, from time to time sleeping with stable boys and male servants. She had grown to hate his mere sight, feeling disgusted when he had come to her after having intercourse with another man somewhere in stables or even in his own chambers.

Over time, Squire Thornton had become crueler and more sadistic because Isabella had failed to give him heirs. She had never gotten pregnant, and he had humiliated her, calling her a dirty bitch with an empty womb. But Thornton had never sired a bastard on one of his lovers, and perhaps, Isabella wasn't barren. Overall, Isabella was glad that her disastrous marriage was childless, for she would have never wanted her child to remind her of the nights with her husband she wanted to forget.

Everything had changed in Isabella's life when she had met John, who had become her savior from the darkness, where she had lived in since her marriage to Thornton. She needed John as much as she needed air to breathe, and there was no way she was going to lose what she had accomplished.

The sound of footsteps in the corridor pulled Isabella out of her thoughts. Her mind floated to Guy, and a tyrannical smile illuminated her lovely face. Her heart pounding a hideous ecstasy, at the thought that she would begin her quest for vengeance today, she jumped to her feet like an excited maiden bustling with news about a great marriage proposal. She stormed out of the great hall and rushed to the corridor. Calling Blamire, Isabella walked through the corridor, her eyes taking in every feature of the castle that had become her official residence yesterday.

She was irritated that she Blamire still didn't come. "Blamire, where are you?" she shouted.

Finally, she heard the dull echo of leather boots clomping down the corridor. She froze tensely, listening. As she saw Blamire, she smiled and feigned an attitude of not having a care in the world.

Blamire bowed to the lady sheriff. "Lady Isabella, I am at your service."

"Blamire, I want to pay _a friendly visit_ to Gisborne," she asserted.

"Please follow me, Lady Isabella," Blamire replied.

Guy of Gisborne lay on a straw mattress in his damp, dark cell. The guards had thrown him not in the dungeons where they usually kept all the prisoners, but in _the underground prison_ that had been built at Vaisey's initiative. Nobody, except for the most entrusted guards, knew about the existence of _the underground hell_, as Vaisey had once referred to his invention, proudly. At Isabella's initiative, Prince John ordered to have Guy imprisoned there, so that nobody could find and free the prisoner.

A feeling of coolness swept over Guy's face, and pain was in every inch of his body. He struggled to open his eyes, but his head was pounding in pain and his eyelids were heavy, and his mind dimly locked onto the knowledge that he lay on a firm, cold surface, in total darkness and icy chilliness, as if he were in a coffin or a tomb. Suspecting where he had been thrown, he was afraid to open his eyes, his heart clinging to the vestiges of hope that it was only a nightmare that would soon pass.

As he heard the sound of approaching footsteps, Guy sat up on his mattress. He clutched his head as a bolt of pain shot through his scull; the headache reminded him of what had happened several hours ago. He glanced around and saw light in the corridor illuminated by flickering torches.

In a moment, Isabella of Gisborne came into view, followed by Vaisey's new captain of the guards – Blamire. Guy drew up short as soon as he saw his sister, his gaze sweeping over her luxurious and seductive gown and coming to rest on her lips curled in a satisfied smile.

"Do you like your new home, brother?" Isabella enquired tartly. "Is everything to your liking?"

Guy rose to his feet, with difficulty. He came to the bars and looked at Isabella. "How long have you been with the Black Knights, playing a role of a poor, helpless wife who needed my protection?"

"For several months before our departure to the Holy Land," she responded dryly.

"Where is Marian?"

Isabella ignored his question. "You look unhappy, brother," she said mockingly. "Don't be so chagrined, Guy. I have many ideas of how to make your stay here quite entertaining. Nobody will find you here. And I will ensure that your life won't be dull here."

Guy eyed her with a dark smirk. "You are not going to execute me soon?"

She raised he chin. "Not now."

"Do you want to make me pay for what I did to you?"

"Certainly," Isabella said, smiling coldly at him. "Prince John wants to execute you on the day of his coronation and Marian's wedding to the Earl of Buckingham."

Guy shuddered. A prickle of fear was running down his spine at her words, and before he even realized it, his legs buckled and he hauled his depleted body over a nearby wall. Then he slowly sank to his knees and moaned. His physical exhaustion and the pain from his wounds were taking toll on him.

He lifted his eyes to his sister's face. "Prince John's coronation?"

"Yes." Her mouth curved into one of her feline smiles.

Guy gasped in shock. He looked absolutely terrified. "King Richard…" He stopped himself before he could say anything else.

"It is not your deal, brother."

"What did the prince do to the king?" he pressed on.

Guy waited, expecting some response, but all he saw was a momentary flicker of something ambiguous, perhaps a flicker of doubt or fear, in Isabella's angry and cold eyes; he knew that she hesitated to talk, to say something important to him, but he had no clue what it was.

"I will ask Doctor Blight to come and stitch your wounds. I don't want you to die from infection." A wry smile curved her lips, her eyes glittering with danger. "Your time hasn't come yet, brother."

"Thank you," Guy said."

Isabella fell silent and stared at Guy for a moment longer, but there was no trace of sisterly affection in her eyes. Instead, her eyes were chilly and dark like burnt-out stars as her lips parted and words came out. "You know of the existence of demons," she declared coolly. "I promise that you will see hell on earth very soon, brother. It will be much worse than being tormented by demons."

Then Isabella swung around and moved towards the door. Blamire was following her like a shadow, and only the sound of their receding footsteps and the gathering darkness announced their departure.

Guy sat on his knees, staring into the emptiness for some time, and then he cupped his face with his hands. He gave a howl of despair and threw himself down, on the stone floor. He felt the sting of tears at the corners of his eyes, and he called his mother's name in despair.

He shouldn't be stunned that Isabella wanted his disgrace, suffering, and eventually death, but he still couldn't believe that she had manage to fool him during so many months, planning her cutthroat revenge on him beforehand. Vaisey had been right when he had told him, moments before his death, that he hadn't known his own sister. He wondered when his sister had become a monster.

Guy saw a reflection of himself in Isabella. Did they inherit cruelty from gentle and kind Ghislaine? Or did life make them sworn foes and monsters? And Guy also was well aware that Isabella had been compelled to step into darkness when he had sold her to Squire Thornton. The thought that he had made his own sister a monster made his heart twisted in pain. He was guilty, and it was time to pay back his debt to her.

The act of vengeance – killing Vaisey – had been committed, but the price could have been very high – Guy's own life and even Marian's life. The game for survival was beginning.

Next morning after Gisborne's arrest, Doctor Blight, Vaisey's personal physician, was blindfolded and led to Guy's cell. He tended to the wounds Guy had gotten in the fight with the sheriff. Although Blight cleaned and bandaged the wounds, he wasn't allowed to give Guy some painkilling herbs, and Guy had to tolerate terrible pain for several days. Luckily, he didn't contract high fever, like it had happened to him in the Holy Land after Isabella's arrow had struck him in his right shoulder.

For several days, nobody visited Gisborne, and only some food was given to him – a little bread and some water. As his wounds healed a little, Guy made a desperate attempt to escape, but he was captured by Blamire and other guards. Guy tried to struggle and knocked out two guards, and in response one of them stabbed him in his left side – in the same place where he had stabbed Robin Hood in the Saracen attack, with the only difference that his injury wasn't as deep and dangerous as Robin's. Then Isabella again invited Doctor Blight, who cleaned and stitched Guy's new wound.

An indefinite time passed; and as it did so, a doleful stillness descended on Guy like dew. All he could do was to Guy on a straw mattress, thinking that his body was like a mass of bruises and muscles, waiting for his tormentors to come to him. And one day it happened: Guy heard a creak of the opening door that made him shudder in horror. As the orange flame of a torch fell on his face, he squinted and raised his hand over his eyes protectively.

"Who is here?" Guy felt his heart thundering in his chest.

The answer was a female laugh, and then Guy saw Isabella in the light from the torch which she was holding in her arm. His eyes narrowed on her with a sudden predatory intensity, but then his features relaxed, and he smiled involuntarily as his eyes took in her impudently cut gown of yellow silk. She looked very beautiful, proud, and self-assured, and there was a triumphal smile on her face.

"Oh, Guy, Guy," Isabella's voice sounded pleased and cheerful. "You used to be such a gorgeous knight, tall, handsome, and leather-clad man." She laughed. "And who are you now?"

"What do you want, Isabella?" Guy grumbled. He barely repressed his moan as the burning pain in his side slashed through him at the attempt to move his body.

"Don't change your position, brother. It will cause you more pain," she advised.

Guy trembled all over. "Why are you here?"

"You will find out soon, brother," she said sarcastically.

Then Guy noticed Blamire who stood behind Isabella. "We will have much fun today, Lady Isabella," Blamire promised in a menacing tone.

Isabella smiled. "Oh, we will."

Next instance, Blamire punched Guy in his face with brutal violence that took Guy's breath away. Guy groaned, and the world around him sank into darkness as he passed out from a powerful blow.

When Guy opened his eyes next time, he knew that he was in the torture room. Guy moaned as he felt a sharp pain coursing through his bare back. The realization dawned upon him – he was being flogged. He was lying on the table on his stomach: he was naked and spread-eagled, his wrists and ankles tied to the corners of the table, the rope secured to the table's legs. The whip landed cruelly on his back and buttocks, ripping his skin, and Guy screamed in pain, thinking that Blamire was beating him with a violent force, clearly trying to inflict a great pain on him and savoring every moment of Guy's agony.

Guy moved his head and groaned quietly; he desperately tried to repress his moans as much as he could. He cast a sideways glance at his tormentor, who was armed with a long whip made of thongs of plaited leather, and then he winced at the memory of how he himself had tortured and beaten prisoners when he had served Vaisey. A feeling of sharp guilt pricked his conscience, and he caught himself on the thought that he pitied all the men whom he had flogged with the same whip.

In the corner of the room, Isabella stood and watched Guy's torture. "Ah, my dear Guy, do you like your punishment?" She let out a laugh. "Do you like being flogged like a peasant or a slave?"

Guy stiffened, suppressing a groan. The thought that he was being beaten like a peasant or, worse, a slave, was revolting, for it injured his pride and lowered his self-esteem. But the fact that flogging was forced on Guy by his own sister, who enjoyed his sufferings, made his blood freeze in his veins.

"Isabella, are you enjoying the sight of my lacerated back?" Guy was genuinely curious.

"Brother, you are getting what you deserve," Isabella retorted.

"You have debonair manners in treating your relatives, sister," Guy said sarcastically. Then he groaned at the next strike of the whip.

His barb enraged Isabella. "Blamire, you should beat him harder," she commanded.

"Isabella, you are…" Guy stammered as the whip landed on his back with another vicious smack.

She clapped her hands, as if in frustration. "Ah, poor Guy! Poor man!"

"In the Roman Empire, flogging was often used as a prelude to crucifixion. The Romans reserved this treatment for non-citizens," Blamire's voice resonated. "Will we crucify this worm later, Lady Isabella?"

Isabella smiled. "We will do to Guy what Prince John orders."

Blamire stopped the beating and walked to the corner of the room. He took a long leather whip with two wide pieces of metal at the end, which he intended to use to make the flogging more painful.

Guy didn't see what Blamire was doing. He rejoiced that there was a small break in his torture. At least, he had some time to collect himself and his strengths before they continued beating him.

"I will take a special whip, my lady," Blamire informed. "I promise that it will be awful for him."

Guy shuddered in shock as he understood what Blamire meant. He himself used the same whip many times when he had tortured prisoners. Once he had even used the same leather whip with pieces of metal at the tip on Robin Hood after the outlaw had been captured in the strong room and hadn't managed to escape. It was the only time when Guy had tortured Robin with his own hands, enjoying the pain he had inflicted on his childhood enemy and imagining the face of Malcolm of Locksley at the sight of his precious golden boy being put to the rack and beaten like a low criminal. Now, when Guy knew that Robin also was Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine's son, he was severely ashamed of himself.

"Excellent, just great," Isabella uttered in nearly exultant tones.

"You are cruel, Isabella," Guy hissed.

Isabella threw her head back and laughed. "And what did you think your stay here will be like?" Her voice went down to a serpent's hissing. "What did you expect from me after you ruined my life and sold me to Squire Thornton, Guy? We are having a great day, brother."

"I suppose it would be greater soon, sister," Guy muttered.

"Right, brother," Isabella confirmed.

Blamire surveyed Guy's back. "His skin is damaged, but I can give him more lashes."

Isabella eyed Guy's prone form askance. "Do that."

"Hellish pain, huh?" Blamire croaked with laughter as he started beating Guy with the new whip.

"No," tumbled from Guy's lips.

Guy nearly experienced a heart failure at the first strike of the whip. He howled like a wounded animal. He felt unbearable pain slashing across his back. He could barely breathe. He was biting his lips and could barely repress his moans. His heart pounded harder and harder as more and more strikes landed on his back. A fog of black rage enveloped him, and his qualms of guilt, which he had felt of selling Isabella to Thornton only moments ago, perished as if they had never tugged at his heartstrings.

The whip crushed back onto Guy's skin again and again, and soon Guy couldn't tolerate pain in silence anymore. The soul within him writhed in agony and his body writhed, too, as strong waves of fulgurating pain shot through him. His face was a personification of agony; creaking and crying sounds started coming out of his mouth. He screamed over and over again. And then Guy started sobbing like a small child: he wept from the agony of his punishment; he wept with fury at his own sister who was so zealous to make him suffer; he wept as he pictured how miserable he looked at that moment. Yet, Guy knew that he deserved that as he himself had tortured many men in the same way.

"How many lashes?" Isabella walked towards the table.

"I have already given Gisborne thirty lashes with the first whip and fifteen lashes with this new whip, Lady Isabella," Blamire reported as he continued administering the punishment.

"That's enough for today, or he might die here," Isabella deduced.

Blamire stopped flogging. "Should we use a poker to punish him for his attempt to escape?"

Isabella let out a self-satisfied smile. "He is already in a pretty bad shape, but I will have to invite a physician today in any case, so you can do it."

"I will prepare everything." Blamire threw the whip on the floor.

"Stop sobbing, Guy," Isabella barked contemptuously as she watched Guy's face contort in pain and caught a glimpse of his watery eyes. "You are a man of harsh reputation, aren't you?"

"The pain was indeed unbearable, Lady Isabella. It is a normal reaction," Blamire explained.

Guy knew that the torture would continue soon. He forced himself to keep as much dignity as he could. His mind drifted back to the moment when he had flogged Robin with the same whip.

Robin had begun to scream only after twenty lashes, and then he had moaned quietly as Guy had continued beating him. He had given Hood more than thirty lashes before Robin had passed out. Before Guy had ordered his guards to carry the outlaw to his cell, he had seen that Robin's lips had been bloody, understanding that Hood had been biting his lips to prevent himself from screaming. In two days, Guy had flogged Robin again with the same whip, and he had reveled in the moment of his triumph when the King of Sherwood had started writhing in pain and moaning, in the end breaking into heartbreaking sobs. Next day, Robin Hood's gang had saved their wounded leader from the dungeons.

Now Guy hated himself for what he had done to Robin and for his enjoyment of the younger man's agonizing torments. That self-hatred gave him strength to survive through his own punishment. He stopped sobbing and clenched his jaw, steeling himself against pain. He licked his lips, feeling a metallic taste of blood in his mouth.

"Gisborne, now we will finish our celebration," Blamire hissed as the red-hot poker, which he held in his right hand, touched Guy's toes. "You betrayed Prince John and Lord Vaisey, and now you are getting your punishment."

"Oh God," Guy whispered. He felt his toes and his entire body burning as the poker was laid against his flesh and was being pressing on it hard.

"I am going to do more, Gisborne," Blamire warned, laughing.

Guy screamed as Blamire placed the poker to one of Guy's ankles.

"Do you want to break me, Isabella?" Guy's voice was muffled and thin, for he was obviously forcing himself to speak as he endured the pain. He bellowed with rage mingled with pain. His breathing was rapid and irregular as he was struggling to suppress nausea that rose in his throat. Every fiber of his terribly maltreated body ached, but his heart was hurting more.

"Guy, you broke me when you made me marry Thornton." Isabella lowered her head, unable to look at Guy. "My life was ruined on my wedding night."

Guy gritted his teeth. "And now you want me to pay for my sins, Isabella?"

She had some shame left to blush. "Yes, I do."

"It was funny, huh?" Blamire growled as he put the poker on Guy's back. "Now more fun."

His flesh was burning, and Guy screamed like a madman; he would have tripled with pain if he hadn't been tied to the table. Then Blamire quickly took the poker from Guy's back. Now his back was both burnt and lacerated. Blamire brought the poker to both of Guy's feet again, and the prisoner gave a new scream of pain as the instrument met his feet with a tremendous force. There were only pain and darkness in Guy's world, and his mind was dazed. He was barely able to breathe, and he heard the frenzied beat his heart was drumming. Darkness thickened, and Guy passed out.

"We are finished, my lady," Blamire said. "He has many burns and welts on his back and his feet."

"Very well." Isabella nodded, without enthusiasm. She persuaded herself that she liked Guy's pain from the torture, but in reality she was disgusted, though it gave her some satisfaction.

Blamire glanced at Isabella. "Should we take him back to his cell?"

"Yes," Isabella confirmed. "And fetch Blight to stitch the wound on his side and treat his back."

Blamire snapped his fingers, and two guards entered the torture room. They released Guy's limbs from chains and grabbed him with rough hands. Then Guy was carried to the cell and put on his stomach on a straw mattress as he couldn't lie on his wounded back.

In the evening, Blamire appeared in the cell with Doctor Blight. Then Blamire quickly left.

Blight shivered in horror when he recognized the mighty Guy of Gisborne in the broken and unconscious man who lay miserable on a straw mattress. The sight of Guy's back with countless welts and burns made Blight's heart beat faster in fear. He unpacked bandages and requested guards that they bring a bowl of fresh water to clean Gisborne's wounds.

Blight finished stitching the wound on his left side when Guy opened his eyes and groaned. The patient moved his arms, instinctively placing a hand on his hurt side; Blight brushed Guy's hand away.

"Don't do that, Sir Guy. It will only aggravate the situation," Blight warned.

"Blight," Guy muttered. "You?"

"Yes, Sir Guy," the doctor replied in a tense voice. "I stitched the wound on your side, but it will hurt for several weeks more. Now I am going to clean… the welts on your back; it will hurt, but you will have to be patient." He moistened the cloth and prepared to work.

"Thank you." As he lay on his stomach, he didn't see the physician's face.

"I will also give you some medicine from pain."

Doctor Blight started cleaning the injuries on Guy's back, and Guy moaned in pain as the cloth touched his bloodied flesh. Assessing the degree of the damage, Blight struggled to understand how it was possible to sustain such injuries and stay alive. It took the doctor at least an hour to clean the welts.

"Sir Guy, you will have to lie on your stomach, and you should try not to move," the old man recommended. "Otherwise your wounds will open afresh."

"It is fair. I also tortured many men," Guy murmured. "Once I mercilessly tortured Robin Hood."

"They tortured you, but they didn't break you," Blight said quietly as he leaned down to Guy.

"I am already broken." Guy gave a hapless laugh.

"No, you are not broken," the old man parried. "Your body was broken, but your will remained untouched. Just don't let them break your will."

Guy grabbed Blight's hand. "Blight, please find my friend Allan. You remember him. He used to be my right-hand man when I was Vaisey's master-at-arms."

Doctor Blight took his hand away. "I am sorry, Sir Guy. I cannot help you."

"Why? What have I done wrong by you?" Guy blinked back his tears, as if letting them fall would be an insult to his already afflicted pride.

"Nothing, Sir Guy. That dark-skinned man will kill my family." The doctor's voice was apologetic.

"Blamire… he is like Vaisey," Guy murmured.

Blight rose to his feet and took several steps back, intending to leave. "I have to go, Sir Guy. I am sorry." Then he walked out of the cell.

As the door was closed, Guy dissolved into tears, feeling as if he were forgotten by God. He had killed the sheriff and had avenged his misery and his mother's disgrace, unknowingly setting himself up for torments in a living hell. Why did so many troubles befall Guy after his return to England? Did God decide to have him punished for his sins and wrongdoings? Was he destined to die in _the underground hell_? Was he doomed to die at the hands of his own sister before someone could save him? Would he find absolution and freedom in death, or did he need to suffer more to _earn his redemption_? His body was shaking with long, racking sobs as all these questions were flying in his mind.

Next day, Guy contracted a high fever. Doctor Blight came to his cell again, and he was as gentle as he could be while tending to Guy's wounds. In his delirium, Guy tried to turn on his straw mattress, but the mobility of his body was restricted by his shackled legs and hands, for Isabella's guards chained him to the wall. During next several weeks, Guy was somewhere between hell and earth, barely clinging to life. Yet, he was fighting to survive – he wasn't entirely broken.

§§§

It was a late December afternoon. The sky was leaden and trees bare, the last of their old leaves strewn in a dark golden tapestry under the hooves of the horse as Lady Megan Bennet of Attenborough rode along the forest paths in Sherwood Forest. She was riding at such a high speed that leaves were whirling beneath her horse, creating an airy trail behind her.

Since she had had escaped before Queen Eleanor's arrest, Megan lived in Nottingham, at her father's manor. She also often went to Attenborough, her family's family residence, and she liked Attenborough Hall very much as it was tucked into a landscape rich with woodlands and streams. In Attenborough, Megan could feel herself closer to nature, which she loved since childhood when she could have spent hours in the forests of Poitou, disappearing from the sight of her father and servants and, thus, wreaking chaos at the royal court as everyone had begun to search for her.

In the past weeks, Megan traveled between Nottingham and Attenborough, desperately hoping to get some news about King Richard and find Sir Roger de Lacy. Attenborough was located not far from Nottingham, and she could go to the town very often. Yet, she still achieved nothing because there was no new information from the king, and she didn't see de Lacy either. Every time Megan went to Nottingham and stayed there for days, she learnt nothing; then, frustrated and scared, she returned to Attenborough Hall. The disappearance of King Richard and Roger de Lacy frightened her.

Megan came to Nottingham several days ago. Today she hoped to get some news about the king as she had a scheduled secret meeting with Lady Amicia de Beaumont, Prince John's mistress and King Richard's spy, who could have already learnt something new about their liege. Megan and Amicia decided to meet in the woods for their own safety. Isabella of Gisborne knew Amicia quite well, and they couldn't risk being discovered in Nottingham. Sherwood seemed to be one of the very few places where they could feel in safety and could talk.

Megan reached the clearing in the area of the so-called bewitched woods, where very few people had courage to go. She dismounted and looked around, holding the reins in her hands and leading her horse to the opposite side of clearing. She stopped and listened attentively, but there was no sound beyond the rustling of leaves. She turned the horse in the direction she had come from and sought the path back, all the time listening to sounds around her, but she heard nothing that interested her.

Knowing that she could have lost her way if she had gone deeper into the forest, Megan again looked around, praying that she would find Amicia on the clearing. Once, her straining ears caught the distant sound of hooves, but she was unsure of the direction, and it didn't come again. She gazed around again, and sighed deeply, trying to be patient and yet failing.

Megan cursed. The trees rose around her stood straight, like stately cathedral columns, as if they were arching to form barrel-vault canopies above her head. She turned her head towards the setting sun, and then a large smile illuminated her face. She saw the tall figure of a hooded woman, who was walking towards her. The newcomer was Lady Amicia de Beaumont.

"Amicia!" Megan cried out in a voice enriched with a deep affection. "Amicia! Amicia!" She smiled at the other lady, who also stopped and made an inviting gesture with her arms.

"Yes, Megan, I am here," Amicia responded, laughing merrily.

Amicia removed her hood, and let the reins slip from her hand. Laughing, Megan ran to Amicia and grasped her in a fierce embrace, a torrent of Norman-French pouring from her lips between friendly kisses and greetings. Amicia, who never displayed emotions in public, shed some tears and clung to her friend, pressing her to her chest. Emotions overwhelmed them, and time stopped for a while.

They stood frozen in a tight embrace for a long time. Despite a ten-year age difference, they were very close friends and knew each other very well, having spent years together at Queen Eleanor's court.

Finally, Amicia collected herself and drew back. She eyed Megan, and a large smile manifested on her face. "Still speaking in your mother's native tongue, my dear? Haven't forgotten Norman-French?" she said, her voice slightly tremulous, though she tried to joke. "When I learnt that you are in Nottingham, I thought that your English father would never permit you to speak it."

Megan shook her head, tears shimmering in her eyes. "I am talking to my father mainly in English, and often in Norman-French. He doesn't reproach me as he himself used to speak this language every day throughout so many years." She laughed with a melodic laugh. "I grew up in Aquitaine, and everything English is not what I like."

Amicia embraced Megan and then pulled back. "I am truly glad to see you, and I want to talk of ordinary things – about everything and nothing." She smiled heartily. "I missed you so much, Meg."

"I missed you, too, Amicia."

"You look so beautiful and so gracious!" Amicia eyed her with a smile. "As always, you are dressed with great taste and in Aquitanian fashion." Her tone was bright with reassurance. "Damp English weather hasn't made you look worse."

Megan was truly a beautiful young lady, with smooth alabaster skin, long and glossy hair of chestnut color, and expressive, almost shaped eyes of clear sea shallows. Her slender body was wrapped in a trendy cloak made of heavy, finest blue wool and the pelts of ermine. The upper part of her cloak was unfastened up to her breasts, and beneath she wore a gown of deep blue silk jeweled with diamonds and sapphires on a high lace collar. Megan was as breathtakingly lovely as one of the young wood nymphs who haunted tangled wild forests in ancient myths.

"Of course, I am the best. I am beautiful and gracious, like a queen." Megan gave a casual laugh. "And you, my dear Amicia, are definitely lovely too."

"As usual, no modesty at all," Amicia retorted, in a voice that was soft but filled with knowing. "And thank you for your complement."

"Always welcome, my dear."

Amicia smirked. "So this is the bewitched part of Sherwood Forest?"

"It seems so. My father offered to have secret meetings with anyone only here."

"Because this place is damned and bewitched?"

"Exactly." Megan winked at the older woman. "Isn't it an ideal place for a secret meeting?"

Amicia winked back. "Very enigmatic."

The bewitched woods, a large part of Sherwood in the outer circle, were a strange place, located in the depths of the woods. The people of Nottinghamshire believed that there were evil spirits there. The bewitched place was often called _the cursed woods_. In reality, it was simply the most remote and dangerous part of the forest, and if a traveler didn't know the area, he could easily lose his way there and could even die there before help arrived and, probably, even without being discovered at all.

Megan was in a state of exaltation, feeling herself like a person intoxicated with adorable emotions. She felt as if she were a great spy and a conspirator who was meeting with her partner in an enigmatic place to decide the fates of nations and empires. "This is an interesting place, Amicia! I hope that you have found this place without any problems," she said after a small pause.

Amicia nodded. "I found the bewitched woods very easily."

Megan looked at her friend incredulously. "How did you do that? My father showed me this place three times before I remembered the way here."

"I have my own ways, Meg."

"How did you do that?"

"Have you forgotten that Robin of Locksley was my younger brother's best friend?"

"No, I haven't."

Amicia looked wistful. "After Robin and Robert had finished their knighthood training in Poitiers, Robin invited us to visit his estates in Huntingdon and in Locksley. We spent autumn here; then my husband demanded that I return to Aquitaine. I left Locksley, but Robert stayed there for longer," she continued in a slightly trembling tone. "Robin took us to the bewitched woods, saying that it is the most dreadful part of Sherwood. We laughed at rumors about the bewitched woods. We often came here." She paused, her eyes turning languid. "Roger of Stoke was with us at that time, but now he is dead."

"So many people died," Megan said sorrowfully.

"Yes, but life goes on," Amicia replied sadly.

"And you remembered the path here, didn't you?"

"Exactly, Meg. That's why I found this place so quickly today."

"Oh, I understand."

They were silent for a while, remembering those whom they knew and who were no longer alive.

"Well, I have brought you something from London. You will surely like it." Amicia extracted a leather purse from the pocket of her cloak. Inside there was a magnificent necklace made out of sapphires and gold flowers. "I asked Prince John's jeweler to make this necklace for you."

Megan took the necklace into her arms. "It is a piece of striking beauty!" She kissed her friend. "Thank you, darling! Thank you so much! God save me from annoying suitors if I come to Prince John's court."

"Megan, you don't need to go to the prince's court. Better go back to Aquitaine."

"I understand," Megan replied with sympathy; she put the purse with the necklace into the inner pocket of her cloak. "You have to pretend that you hate King Richard and want Prince John to become King of England. It is very difficult to hide our true allegiances."

"It is really terrible!" Amicia exclaimed. "You cannot imagine how much I miss a company of normal people since I became the prince's mistress." She looked disgusted. "I have to spend much time trying to please the prince in a bed, enduring his lecherous pranks and tricks. I always have to listen how much he hates King Richard and Queen Eleanor and how he wants Richard dead."

"My heart is with you, my dear. I am shocked that the prince made you his lover."

"You know that I have been Richard's personal spy for a long time. The only way to spy on Prince John after King Richard's departure to the Holy Land was to become his mistress."

Megan gave Amicia a long, searching look. "And what about King Richard?" Megan asked cautiously. "I suppose your feelings for our king haven't changed yet, have they?"

"I still love Richard. He is the love of my life," she confessed. "I had many lovers, but Richard is my only true love."

"I remember how much you loved him. You were besotted with him."

Amicia sighed. "This is the only reason I am spying on John… and sleep with him."

"You can be with the king again after his return."

Amicia looked sad, her eyes sparkled with shimmering tears. "I doubt that it would happen," she said sadly. "I even don't know whether or not Richard is alive. Maybe he is already dead."

Megan's face was horrified. "What happened? Do you have any news about King Richard?"

"I don't have good news," Amicia said in a hollow voice. "I know nothing about the king."

Megan gaped at her friend, her agitation evident in her jerky breathing. "Amicia, please tell me what happened. I understand absolutely nothing."

"Oh, it is a long story, Meg."

"Well, we have time."

Amicia de Beaumont averted her eyes. She didn't speak for a while. She didn't know what to say. She wasn't a woman who could have been scared by evil gossip, loss of money, disgrace, poverty, betrayal, and even death, but there was one thing that could render her dumb and instill a feeling of mortal dread into her heart – it was King Richard's death. She feared that her words could be true. She was extremely worried, although she tried to keep her fears and insecurities to herself.

"_King Richard disappeared on the way from the Holy Land_," Amicia said hoarsely, still looking somewhere into the woods. "He sailed from Acre and was lost somewhere in the Mediterranean Sea. He must have already been home. He must have arrived in Aquitaine several weeks ago."

"And where can the king be?" Megan inquired in a shaking voice.

Amicia squeezed her eyes shut tightly. "_I fear Richard is dead_," she said in a cracking voice. Her grief was worse than a physical pain at her core. "I don't know what we all will do if the king is dead."

Megan approached her and tugged at the sleeve of Amicia's cloak. As she had to travel from London to meet Megan and had to make only some stops in inns on the road to Nottingham, Amicia wore only simple travel clothes: a warm winter cloak and a plain pale green gown beneath.

Tears filled Megan's eyes. "Oh, no! The king cannot be dead!"

Amicia turned her gaze at Megan; she had regained her composure. "Prince John has done something to Richard. I don't know what it is, but this time it is not a regicide attempt."

"I want to be optimistic," Megan said grimly. "I don't believe that it is true."

"John is very secretive and cautious, but he is in a very elevated mood in the last few weeks," Amicia said sorrowfully, trying to keep her face neutral. Yet, her cheek muscle twitched. "Something very serious is going on. John is planning his own coronation in London. Imagine what it can mean!"

"Oh, it would be a disaster!" Megan put a hand on her mouth. "If Prince John ascends the throne, I fear the Angevin Empire will lose the continental territories to King Philippe of France. The people will suffer, and the nation will live in oppression and tyranny."

"Indeed, everything will change dramatically, in the worst possible ways," Amicia replied, her tone calm and her expression guarded. She was more worried about Richard than about England.

"And Queen Eleanor is under arrest at Pontefract Castle." Megan threw her hands up in frustration. "Queen Eleanor told me to find Sir Roger de Lacy, thinking he can help us to release her and give us information about the king. But I cannot do that because de Lacy disappeared."

"I saw Roger de Lacy several days ago," Amicia informed.

"Where is this cheeky rogue now?" Megan clenched her fists. "The Queen Mother is imprisoned at de Lacy's castle. I begin to think that de Lacy became a traitor."

"Roger is not a traitor," Amicia contradicted. "He was arrested at Prince John's order."

"Oh, my God!" Megan looked shocked. "You must be joking!"

"No, I am not joking."

"Impossible! Impossible!"

"It is true, Meg," Amicia assured. "Prince John has two new prisoners – Sir Roger de Lacy and Lady Marian of Knighton. They are kept prisoners in the Tower of London, but they are locked in luxurious rooms in the guests' quarters. They are guarded by men from Prince John's Elite Guard."

Megan looked at her friend with troubled eyes. "Why are Sir Roger de Lacy and Lady Marian of Knighton are the prince's prisoners?"

"Roger de Lacy quarreled with Prince John's loyal men, who, of course, are traitors. I met Roger once, and he told me what happened in Acre and what he did later," Amicia said.

Megan frowned. "Here, in Nottingham, I have heard a lot about Lady Marian. People say that she is Robin of Locksley's former betrothed."

"Lady Marian is kept prisoner because Prince John passionately wishes to marry her off to the Earl of Buckingham. It seems that she is a reluctant bride."

Megan blinked, confused. "But Lady Marian is Guy of Gisborne's wife."

"Gisborne is a free man now," Amicia remarked with a smile of wry pride.

"How is that possible?"

Amicia chuckled. "It is a delicate and amusing situation. Sir Edward of Knighton, Lady Marian's father, had arranged a betrothal for his daughter to Lord Buckingham. The betrothal wasn't dissolved, but the lady married Guy," she explained hastily. "Prince John appealed to the Archbishop of Canterbury to have Guy's marriage to Lady Marian annulled on the grounds of the pre-contract with the Earl of Buckingham. The marriage was declared null and void a week ago."

"But why does Prince John need that?"

"The Earl of Buckingham is licking Prince John's boots with such a great pleasure that one may think he is eating sweet pancakes. He is the prince's puppet and favorite. He is very loyal to John," Amicia elaborated, feeling her heart clench in her breast as a rush of pity for Marian rushed through her. "Prince John is more than happy to please his dear Buckingham, who seems to be as charmed by Lady Marian as Guy and Robin once were."

"Poor Lady Marian!" Megan shook her head. "Is she again betrothed?"

"Yes. Now Lady Marian of Knighton is officially betrothed to Buckingham. It seems that it is Lady Marian's fourth or fifth betrothal."

Megan gave her friend a dark look, as if she thought she was deliberately laughing at the situation. "Why are you laughing, Amicia? Don't you pity Lady Marian?"

"I do pity her, Meg, but I cannot say that I like her."

"Why?"

"Lady Marian was twice betrothed to Robin of Locksley," Amicia added.

"Oh my Lord," Megan breathed every word. "I am shocked."

"She is an unusual woman, but I don't have an objective opinion about her," Amicia continued, her mind drifting off from de Lacy to Marian whom she had also seen at the court. "She left Robin twice – when Robin went to the Holy Land and when she married Guy."

Megan nodded in understanding. "Sir Robin should have been hurt a lot!" Her expression was somewhat distant as her mind wandered to the days of her early youth in Poitiers. "He was a brilliant and attractive young man with numerous love affairs. When I saw him at the court, I resented him a little bit when he flirted and charmed the queen's ladies, thinking of himself as God's gift to women."

Amicia frowned. "I agree that Robin was one of the most arrogant men I have ever met; he was like my brother." She sighed. "Oh, for goodness sake, you really think so about Robin's attitude to women? You are so wrong!"

"I know, Amicia. I understood Sir Robin much better after I watched him for a while – that was a masquerade of real emotions on his part."

"This time you are right."

"Oh, yes, I am," Megan retorted with a smile.

"Robin loved Lady Marian," Amicia changed the subject. "He really did love her, and she broke his heart." A grimace crossed her face. "I know that she caused Robin a great pain when she threw an engagement ring right in his face when he announced his decision to go to the Holy Land. She also married Guy before breaking her engagement to Robin."

Megan frowned. "You want to tell me that Lady Marian deceived Sir Robin and Sir Guy."

"It was a sort of deceit," Amicia agreed. "But I believe that it was more due to her confusion with her feelings. She was trapped between the two such different and such dashing men."

Megan's heart constricted with apprehension. "It means that both Robin of Locksley and Guy of Gisborne suffered because of her actions."

"Yes. I cannot like this lady, though I am impressed by her biography."

"Marriage shouldn't be biased on lies," Megan declared. "Such marriages are doomed to become loveless and probably even wretched."

"No wiser words can be spoken." Amicia smiled with a smile of a tender pride.

Megan understood many things many other girls either ignored or didn't care to think of. Amicia was proud of Megan and loved her for who she was – an honest, fiery, strong, passionate, and beautiful lady, yet naïve and vulnerable, with strong convictions and moral core values.

"Amicia, tell me what happened to Roger de Lacy."

"Everything is bad, Megan," Amicia said in a grave tone, after a long pause. "Roger de Lacy arrived in Nottingham before you came here. Roger was extremely angry, as well as very foolish. He quarreled with Vaisey and accused him of treason Robin's murder. Then he headed to Tickhill."

Megan shook her head disapprovingly. "That was an act of reckless arrogance in the extreme. The man's hellish temper will kill him one day."

"Roger was greatly affected by Robin's death," Amicia explained, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Roger and Robin were close friends. Roger grieved over his friend's death so much that his most ardent desire was to deal with Vaisey." She sighed. "His temper played a bad joke with him. He told me that he had taken an oath of vengeance on the day of Robin's demise."

"And look what Prince John did to him!"

"Roger de Lacy proclaimed that he would take his revenge against those who are implicated into the plots against the king," Amicia said grimly. "At Tickhill, Roger lost his temper and accused the castellan of treason, arrested him, and had him hanged. One of the castellan's servants attempted to take his master's body for a decent burial."

"And what did de Lacy do?"

A laugh stifled in Amicia's throat. "In spite of his general intelligence and impeccable education, Roger may be an intemperate idiot. He said that the castellan was a traitor and that traitors must never be buried. Then he ordered to arrest all guards and servants and hang them as well."

"He acted cruelly and foolishly."

"Yes."

Megan was in startled awe. "I thought that de Lacy was cleverer. He should be happy that he is still alive and hasn't been stripped of his titles."

"Only John's deep affection for de Lacy, which exists in spite of Roger's staunch loyalty to Richard, prevents John from having Roger executed," Amicia continued. "John came with a troop of soldiers and took some of de Lacy's castles, naming them his own strongholds. Roger was arrested, but he wasn't stripped of his titles and lands, though he no longer has his freedom."

"Wait, Amicia!"

"What?"

"Roger de Lacy was a temporary overlord of Locksley, in Sir Robin's absence. But if he is under arrest, then who manages Sir Robin's estates?"

"Roger is still considered an overlord of Locksley, though he is a prisoner."

"I see."

"There is only some good news," Amicia said in a voice brittle with control and holding a trace of earlier tears. "Lady Melisende is with child."

"That is great!" Megan said cheerfully. "Prince John mentioned that."

Amicia sighed. "The child will continue the Huntingdon line."

Megan looked sad. "Poor Lady Melisende! How is she feeling now?"

"She hasn't delivered yet. But I think it will happen soon," Amicia stated.

"I have always been very fond of her. She is an extraordinary lady."

"Yes, she is."

"And her child will never know his father," Megan said sorrowfully.

"This is a great tragedy! Many years ago, Robin and I had an affair, nothing serious. He also was my friend and my brother's best friend."

Then Amicia told her friend the tragic tale about the events in Acre, which had learnt from Roger de Lacy. The wind was bitterly cold and the puddles bore diamond patterns of ice. It was cold, very cold in the forest. Yet, they were absorbed in their conversation, as if they didn't feel cold.

Megan was utterly shocked, shaking her head in disbelief. "Oh my God! Poor Sir Robin!" Then her eyes went wide. "Wait, Amicia! Wait! Lord Vaisey murdered Sir Robin, not Gisborne?"

"Exactly."

"But the prince declared that Sir Guy of Gisborne killed Sir Robin." Megan wrapped her cloak tighter around her for extra warmth against the cold; the winter chill was seeping into her bones.

"Prince John's proclamations are false." Amicia sighed.

Megan arched a brow. "Oh, interesting," she muttered. "Really interesting."

During the time she had spent in Nottingham, Lady Megan Bennet discovered that the small town was worse than any other place where she had ever lived in. She had never seen so many unhappy, anguished faces of townspeople, their eyes full of overpowering fear and mortal terror. It was clear that the people of Nottingham had been oppressed and terrorized by Vaisey for years. Nobody mourned for Vaisey – people rejoiced and cursed the old sheriff, wishing him to burn in hellfire. Now Lady Isabella of Gisborne, the new Sheriff of Nottingham, pledged to make the people's lives more comfortable and keep an order in the town.

In the aftermath of Vaisey's unexpected murder, Nottingham exploded with rumors about Sir Guy of Gisborne. Megan heard quite a lot about the sheriff's villainous former henchman, and neither of those things pleased her. Guy was called _a murderer, a demon, and a devil's servant_. It was said that Vaisey and Gisborne wore only black colors because they had sold their souls to the devil a long time ago, and the obligation to wear black was a sign of their allegiance to the gods of the underworld. Vaisey and Guy were called the devil and his son, the executioner and his pupil. Guy was rumored to have been even Vaisey's lover as the sheriff had been suspected of harboring sinful attraction for men.

Somehow, Guy stirred much more interest in Megan's young heart than Robin Hood could have ever done. Megan considered Robin a handsome young man, heroic and brave, but too arrogant and full of himself for her liking, with a vain nature and head full of illusions about real life. She admired and respected Robin, but she could have never fallen in love with him as deeply as many other young girls had. Robin was a great man and an iconic figure in the Holy Land, in England, and in the Angevin Empire, but Megan didn't fell for him even in the wake of his tremendous popularity.

Guy of Gisborne was a dark and mysterious legend. He was enigmatic man in black leather in Megan's mind. If Robin Hood was a selfless and heroic savior of England, King Richard, and the people, Guy typified everything the legendary outlaw of Sherwood had fought against. Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborne were both legends – a light legend of a hero and a dark, very dark legend of an utter villain. They were said to be mortal enemies, and the people hated Guy for murdering their beloved hero.

In Nottingham, Megan heard a great deal about the atrocities and villainies Guy had committed. The more she listened to gossip, the more she felt herself closer to a mighty mystery, feeling as if it were the only mystery that eluded her. Gisborne seemed to be so evil and so dark, but that darkness and enigma around his personality interested her in spite of the fact that she didn't know the man in person. And yet, the bare sound of Guy's name made her heart pound harder, and Megan began to dream, her mind creating the pictures of the dark handsome knight on the black stallion riding through the forest and chasing after Robin Hood and his gang.

"And tragic," Amicia added, feeling the chill of the night numbing her.

Megan swallowed hard. "And where is Sir Guy of Gisborne now?"

Drawing the frozen air into her lungs, Amicia felt the cold in her heart that was like a knife and seized her breath, but it was exhilarating to keep silent as well. She feared that Guy had already been dead. She no longer loved him, but she was worried about him. "I think that Prince John and Lady Isabella of Gisborne arrested Gisborne. It was convenient for them to accuse Guy of Robin's murder and cast the blame on Guy. Guy appeared in Nottingham, heard the proclamation, and then he killed the sheriff. Of course, his enemies used their chance to arrest him."

"But Guy of Gisborne is a villain. I have heard so many bad things about him."

"Don't believe everything that you hear. Guy is a good man; he was just misguided."

Megan stared at her, her blue eyes twinkling with curiosity. "How do you know that?"

"Guy was my first love," Amicia confessed. Her expression was wistful for an instant before turning blank. "I loved Guy before I fell in love with Richard. I knew Guy long before he returned to Nottingham, although he was born here."

"Oh," Megan breathed. "Yeah, the world is so small."

"Oh, yes, yes. It is very small."

"Tell me what kind of a man Gisborne is."

Amicia eyed her friend. "Have you not heard all these absurd tales about him?"

The young lady sniffed. "Sure, and many tales are so dark that I am shuddering in horror." She gave a mirthless laugh. "But who is to say what the truth is? I hear so many dreadful and ridiculous tales about Guy of Gisborne! Some people say that Gisborne eats children on a breakfast, a lunch, and a dinner. I hear that he demands children's heads to be brought to him on a silver tray."

"Do these stories horrify you, my blue-eyed beauty?"

"Of course, not." Megan laughed merrily. "It seems that Gisborne is very evil. And yet a man cannot be as wretched and sneaky as gossipers say if he killed Sheriff Vaisey." She laughed again. "And do you really think that something may horrify me? Or maybe you think that I should find consolation in wine?" She chuckled. "I am fearless! I am not afraid of Gisborne!"

"I have no doubt that you are a fearless creature, my dear," Amicia retorted, a wry smile curving her lips. "I think you would have liked Guy."

"Who knows?" Megan shrugged.

"Did you hear something else about him?"

Megan looked thoughtful. "I have also heard that Gisborne is deadly with a sword."

"Yes, he is," Amicia confirmed. "But my brother is better."

"Hah!" Megan grumbled. "Do you think that I have forgotten that Robert de Beaumont is considered the best swordsman in Christendom after King Richard himself? You always remind me of that!"

"I am so proud of Robert!" Amicia flashed a smile.

"Well, I have heard many more things about Gisborne," Megan continued. "A week ago, I met a man in the market, and he said that Gisborne finally saw the light in the end of the tunnel and murdered Vaisey." She smiled. "A few others told me that Gisborne may be loyal, although to a wrong person."

"In my opinion, Guy murdered the sheriff because he realized that had brutalized him and had destroyed his life," Amicia opined. "I told Guy years ago that it would happen if he chose to stay with Vaisey, but he didn't listen to me."

"And now Gisborne is lost – either arrested or dead." Megan felt more anxious than she cared to admit, but she was guarding her emotions well. Yet, the thought of Gisborne's death was disturbing.

"I sincerely hope that Guy is alive."

"Could Prince John have him executed?"

Amicia shook her head. "I don't think so, Meg. Most likely, Lady Isabella is holding Guy in the dungeons. If Guy had already been executed, Prince John would have made a spectacle out of his death." Her expression hardened, her facial muscles tensed; a sense of worry was crawling into her heart. "Only God knows what Isabella could be doing to Guy in the dungeons."

"Guy of Gisborne is Lady Isabella's brother!"

"I think she hates him."

"Why?"

"They have their differences, Meg."

Megan looked over at Amicia who had an air of cosmical sadness about her. Her friend obviously knew about the festering sores on the hearts of the Gisborne siblings, but she was reluctant to talk. It was not her business, Megan told herself. "Fine, Amicia. I won't ask anything."

§§§

Lady Megan Bennet surveyed the clearing where they stood. The mist was thickening steadily, and there was kind of a terrific dreamlike quality to it. She liked the picture of the leaves drooping on bare trees in tints of orange, ochre, and yellow. For a moment, she thought that she could imagine Guy of Gisborne standing next to her, but then she scolded herself and called herself a fool. Nonetheless, she was intrigued, really intrigued with the dark knight, and an aura of enthusiastic energy, actuating her to learn more about him, surrounded her, like a pulsing mist.

"I do pity Gisborne," Megan said sadly, and her heart skipped a beat at the thought that the man could have been killed at the orders of his own sister.

"Nothing would have stopped me from saving Guy if I had known where they are keeping him," Amicia said with passion. "I am so worried about Guy. I don't want him dead." She dragged a deep breath, the cold air freezing her inside and out. "De Lacy told me that King Richard had pardoned Guy. It is a great pity that Guy was so stupid and came back to Nottingham before the king's return."

Megan stared at her in disbelief. "King Richard pardoned him?"

"Yes, he did."

"It seems that even our brave King Richard saw some value in the dark demon of Nottingham," Megan said with a laugh. "It means that he is not as wretched as everyone says. Then I will hold Gisborne in my prayers, for someone has to pray for his atonement and survival if he is in such a great trouble."

Amicia smiled. "Well, you may try. Maybe it will help Guy."

Megan made a helpless gesture, and a mischievous glint entered her eyes. "Maybe God shall answer my prayers and show Gisborne a right way to absolution."

"Guy lost even his wife," Amicia added.

Megan let out a chuckle on her rosy lips. "Fate must be mocking Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborne as Robin Hood's childhood sweetheart stood between these two men."

"Meg, your aim is deadly. Fate indeed played a cruel joke with Robin and Guy."

"Oh, Gisborne intrigues me!" Megan cried out, her cheeks flushing. "What a man! An utter villain and a misguided heart! He must be a hero of a tragedy or of a dark drama!"

"Interested in Guy?" Amicia's eyes twinkled.

"I am merely curious." Megan's voice held a note of caution.

"Ah, Meg, Meg!" Amicia gave her a mocking grin.

Megan's cheeks grew rosy. "And why not if he seems to be such a dark legend?"

"As I said, Guy is no longer a married man." Amicia smiled mysteriously.

"Poor man," Megan said with concern. "He lost even his wife to another Black Knight."

"I think it is one of the best things that could happen to Guy."

"Why?"

"Meg, I am not relishing in Guy's unhappiness," Amicia assured her. "I just think that when two people have such a story like Guy and Marian have, nothing good comes out of that."

"On a serious note, what are we going to do now, Amicia?"

"I will try to find out what Prince John did to King Richard," Amicia retorted. "Megan, you should try to be close to Lady Isabella. She is one of the Black Knights, and she is also John's mistress."

"You think Isabella can be useful to us?"

"Naturally," Amicia stated. "Meg, Lady Isabella has enthralled Prince John. John sleeps with me only because Isabella wanted him to make her the Sheriff of Nottingham after Vaisey's death. This woman doesn't want to live at the court; otherwise she would have replaced even me in the prince's bed."

"I got the point," Megan's voice resonated in the cold air. "Lady Isabella may know what happened to King Richard. If Prince John is so secretive even with you, Amicia, then it means that he did something outrageously bold and extremely risky. John is waiting, and he is being overcautious."

"You have to become close with Isabella of Gisborne, my dear."

"I will also do everything I can," Megan pledged. "We must save King Richard and England. We must save the Queen Mother." Her voice gained depth and authority. "These power-hungry men, the Black Knights, will kill our king if we don't save him."

"It is such a pity that Robin is dead. He and my brother would have found the king together."

Megan sighed frustratedly. "But he is not a part of this world."

"Yes, he is in a better place, Meg."

"God will help us. We will do something. We will find the king."

Amicia shook her head. "I will be spying in London, and you will be gathering information here, in Nottingham. We should always be in touch."

"Yes, Amicia. We must coordinate our efforts to find the king."

"My brother, my beloved Robert, traveled to Cyprus where King Richard was last seen. I hope that he would be able to bring some heartening news to us."

"I hope so, with all my heart."

"And so do I."

Megan looked at the sky that was almost dark now; she could also see the red setting sun behind the clouds. "You need to leave. The sun has almost set."

Amicia nodded. "Indeed. It is getting darker, and I need more time to get to a nearby inn, of course, not in Nottingham."

Amicia strode towards her horse that stood riderless in the middle of the clearing. She hopped into the saddle with impressive adroitness. The young golden-chestnut mare shied and almost unseated her, but she clung skillfully to the reins; after a few fraught moments, managed to bring the horse under control.

"Great horse," Meg whispered in adoration.

Megan grinned. "This is a prized stud."

"Let me guess. It is Prince John's gift, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is." Amicia nodded, looking down at Megan. "Prince John has a terrible taste in wines. He drinks vinegar, as Robin of Locksley often said, or water from a pond, as my brother mocks him." She arched a brow, smiling. "And yet, John has an excellent taste in horses."

"Well, the prince must be talented in something else, apart from scheming and backstabbing."

"Very true." Prince John's mistress stroked the mane of her horse. "I will ride all night if there is no rain tonight. In the morning, I will make a stop, and then I will ride again throughout the day to get to London as soon as possible."

"Just be careful, Amicia."

"I will be careful on the way back to London. The major danger is not somewhere in my journey, but in Prince John's methods to usurp the throne," Amicia said almost gravely.

"That's true, Amicia."

"Megan, I beseech you to be very careful. You will be putting yourself in danger. I know that you want to save the king and the queen, but don't go off the deep end and always look before leaping into unfamiliar waters."

"I will be fine, I promise," Megan agreed, smiling. She was again shivering with cold.

Amicia smiled nervously. "Take care of yourself," she said, lightly kicking her horse so it began to trot away. "And if you somehow learn something about Gisborne, please let me know."

Megan felt her cheeks blushing. "I will try to find out about him. I promise."

"Thank you, my dear." Amicia pulled the reins as tight as she could. "Be safe." She spurred on her horse and rode off, her cloak swirling in the air and revealing a flash of her vivid gown.

Megan watched Amicia's retreating figure until the chestnut stallion vanished in a distance. Dusk had already fallen over Nottingham and Sherwood, the air was chilled by an evening frost. She shivered in cold and rubbed her arms that seemed stiff; she had only one desire – to return to the warmth of her house in Nottingham. Now, when her mind wasn't occupied, Megan began to feel that she was freezing.

She hated the late autumn time in England. In Aquitaine, the climate was mild during the winter and autumn months, some days even warm and sunny, and the summer was pleasantly warm and not too hot. She would have left behind the fog and darkness of the English winter and returned to the continent with a great pleasure if she had known that King Richard was alright and his mistress, Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine, was released from the undeserved captivity.

Megan slowly walked to her stallion that stood in the other part of the clearing, as if it were waiting for her. The stallion had the gold champagne body color, light skin, and gorgeous ivory mane and tail. In Aquitaine, Queen Eleanor had a wide range of great horses, studs and does, and she had become quite an expert in horse breeding. She rejoiced when she had inspected her father's stables in Attenborough, which turned out to be not worse than the royal stables in Poitiers.

Megan mounted and rode off. Although she didn't look around, she could feel someone's stares striking her spine – she wasn't alone on the clearing. She tightened the reins and turned her head, her eyes frantically wandering around. At first, she heard nothing special; there were only natural sounds of woodland around, which were muffled in the vastness of the woods. Then someone screamed.

Her expression was the one of furious incredulity as she watched an unknown man trying to draw in the reins to stop his horse, leaning back in his saddle, but failing to get control over the frightened animal. The man's horse struck the trunk of a tree and stumbled. Megan laughed, thinking that the man might have been like a feather on horseback if he had flung so easily from the saddle to the ground. By a miracle, the man's horse kept its feet, and staggered to a halt.

Megan rode towards the unfortunate man who lay shocked, unable to move. Her eyes took in his warm cloak of dark brown twill; his clothes were expensive but very dirty. She dismounted and stalked towards him; as she walked, she drew in a faint aroma of body sweat, which set her uneasy.

"How are you?" Megan said, and then she heard him swear softly under his breath. "Can you sit up?"

"Thank you, lass. I am alright." The man thanked her with a crooked smile. "Allan, my name is Allan."

Megan's face was grimace of displeasure for a short moment. "I am not your lass, you swine!"

Allan looked over her, smiling at her with an irritating wry a smile. He pondered for a moment and then, with a curt nod, spoke. "No, you are not a village girl. You are a lady."

"Exactly," Megan retorted.

Allan rose to his feet, swaying a little. "Well, that was quite an experience."

"It seems that you are not seriously injured," she observed.

"I am gonna say I am a lucky man."

With a look of relief on her face, Megan smiled at him, but then her eyes darkened with anger. "What were you doing here, in the bewitched woods?"

Allan rubbed a hand thoughtfully across his chin. "Actually, I have been leaving in the forest for years."

"Why are you living here?" Megan asked curiously.

"Why are you so curious?" Allan retorted. "And what are you doing in the depths of Sherwood?"

Megan raised her chin, her eyes blazing with anger. "It is not your deal, you fool."

He laughed at her. "You are very spirited, my lady."

"Did you follow me in the forest? Did you eavesdrop? Why are you here now?" Megan asked, her heart pounding with fear that he could have possibly overheard her conversation with Amicia.

Allan chuckled, his blue eyes sparkling. "Yeah, you are a talkative lady. We have just met, and you are already asking me so many questions!"

"Answer me," she demanded.

"I didn't eavesdrop. And I had no idea that you weren't alone here." He eyed her suspiciously. "It is not a very convenient place for a nice little rendezvous, my lady. If I were in your shoes, I would consider meeting with your lover in an inn next time."

"Damn you! You are a ruffian!" Megan raged.

Megan quickly hopped back on her horse. She pulled the reins and galloped down the slope, mud churning beneath the hooves, Allan's laugh bidding her his farewell. She took the path that twisted, turned, and meandered, but she knew where she was going as she navigated her way, using various landmarks on trees and clearings, were obvious only to her. She didn't venture to try any other path.

Someone's heavy footsteps came from the depths of the woods, and Little John emerged on the clearing. "Allan, what are you doing here?" he asked, looking at the younger man with narrowed eyes.

Allan turned his gaze at John. "Hey, mate, I was riding through the forest on the horse I took from the stables in Locksley." He eyes himself. "Look what happened to me? The horse bolted and ran away."

"We don't need horses from Locksley, Allan."

Allan touched the muddy sleeve of his cloak. "Look, John, I wanted to keep the horse in the camp, for our convenience. We must have means of transportation in case the location of the camp is detected and guards come to take us."

"I don't know what worse may happen to us." John settled himself against the trunk of a tree. "King Richard is still away. Marian disappeared. Gisborne was captured. Much left us after Gisborne's arrest."

"I expected nothing else from Much after his disgusting behavior during our journey from Acre."

John smiled wistfully at the thought of Much, whom he already missed a lot. "At least Much went to find Eve! He nearly lost his sanity after Robin's death, and it is for the better that he is with the woman he loves. He needs her love and support so much, and I believe that only Eve can help him survive!" A dark shadow crossed his features. "I still haven't found Alice and my son."

"Much should have helped us to free Guy and find Marian, but he abandoned us."

John scowled at him. "Allan, you should think before you start talking."

"What did I say that is not true?"

"We checked the dungeons twice before Much left us," John defended the former manservant. "I can understand Much. I don't pity Gisborne because he deserves to be punished for his crimes. If Isabella of Gisborne punishes her own brother instead of King Richard, I don't mind."

"You are so unfair to Guy," Allan retorted, sadness creeping into his voice. "Guy killed the sheriff for King Richard, for England, for Robin, for himself, for all of us. But before Vaisey truly went to hell, the sheriff and Prince John made everyone believe that it was Guy who murdered Robin."

John grunted in agreement and said, "I agree that it is unfair. But Gisborne is guilty of so many crimes that he deserves the worst."

"Oh, sweet Jesus!" Allan groaned, shaking his head in frustration. "Stop being so damn stubborn and understand that_ some villains are not as bad as you think. Some bad boys have a heart_!"

Little John nervously wrung his hands as every mention of Gisborne and this man's supposed goodness sent him to a zone of huge discomfort. "Gisborne surprised me that he is actually more tolerable than I thought of him before, but I still don't like him; I don't care for him."

Allan gave him a pointed look. "But Guy is not a villain – he is a good man! He killed the sheriff, and it proves that he is done with the past!" He turned around and walked away, irritated.

"Where are you going?" John was on his feet next instance.

"Back to the camp," Allan said shortly.

The walk to the outlaws' camp was silent. Allan didn't want to talk to Little John about Guy; all their conversations brought only disappointment to Allan as the big man stubbornly refused to admit that he had misjudged Guy. He wanted to punch John on the head and tell him how wrong he was in his conclusions about Guy, but he knew it wouldn't make any difference.

Allan's mood was foul, and it seemed that nothing could dissipate it. Although no official announcement was made, Allan heard rumors that Gisborne had been arrested by the prince's men and had been charged with the murder of Sheriff Vaisey, and Allan wasn't astonished at all. Marian had disappeared, and at first nothing was known about her whereabouts. Later Allan heard that Prince John had taken Marian to London with his party for an unknown reason.

Given the turbulence in Nottingham, neither Much nor Allan tried to reclaim their lands. Much didn't even try to get the lodge of Bonchurch and decided to wait. Allan followed Much's strategy and didn't come to Rochdale in order to take over the lands his father had owned years ago. Instead, they retired to the forest and waited patiently for the king's safe return. They realized that they had committed a grievous mistake when they had returned to Nottingham despite King Richard's warning to stay away from the Black Knights until the lion's return.

Much disappointed Allan as the man left them after two unsuccessful attempts to find and save Guy when they had gone to the dungeons in disguise, but there was no trace of Guy. Unfortunately, they didn't know that Guy was kept in _the underground hell_ – the dungeons below the castle, which could be entered exclusively through a sophisticated system of underground tunnels and cellars. Although Allan had once been Guy's right-hand man and had been a member of the inner sanctum, Guy hadn't shared with him all of Vaisey's projects and plans; so he didn't know many of Vaisey's secrets.

Allan hoped that Roger de Lacy would help him to find Marian and release Guy, but de Lacy had also disappeared. Allan came to Locksley Manor almost every day, but the manor was quiet and only servants were there. He could only talk to kitchen maids, picking up gossip and tidbits of information about Robin and his legacy. He learnt that de Lacy was still an overlord of Locksley and of all Robin's other lands; Prince John had officially declared that the titles and lands of the deceased Earl of Huntingdon hadn't reverted back to the crown and would be inherited by Robin's unborn child.

The worst was that there was absolutely no news from King Richard. Allan was convinced that the King of England would surely come to Nottingham and would lay a siege of the castle. The king had avowed to avenge Robin's death and had pledged to destroy the Black Knights. But Prince John still ruled England during his brother's absence, and the Black Knights were still powerful. The future seemed bleak and uncertain, but for now Allan's major concern was Guy's fate. He felt guilty that he had still failed to find out Guy's whereabouts. Allan wouldn't give up on Guy's life.

* * *

><p><em>I hope you truly enjoyed this chapter and the plot.<em>

_First of all, let me apologize for a significant delay in updating this story. My Tudor novels will be released in the end of October__ (they are being republished), and life hasn't been treating me kindly in the past weeks. I have a lot for edit in the upcoming weeks (for the next novel before submitting it to my publisher), but I hope that next time I will be able to update more quickly. Maybe I am not managing my time effectively. Anyway, the story/novel will be completed by the end of this year._

_In this chapter, the development of Guy's redemption arc is well underway. You may say that I am a heartless creature who makes Guy suffer too much. But look at the situation from the different angle: Guy killed at the sheriff's order for power and wealth for years, and he himself acknowledged in the series that he committed some heinous crimes, which is why he has to suffer and learn from his mistakes in order to earn his redemption. On the show, Guy began to change during his imprisonment in the dungeons, where he met Meg, and in this story/novel the same is happening to him._

_Guy needs to spend some time behind the bars and even in the torture room to understand the magnitude of colossal damage he caused to innocents during the years of his service to Vaisey. Being on the receiving end of the similar torture he had once applied to Robin makes him feel guilty, and it is also useful for his redemption. Guy's imprisonment and torture are the first stage on the road to his ultimate redemption. Now Guy has to face the fact that his own sister hates him with murderous hatred, but he also knows that the seeds of hatred were planted into her heart long before Isabella's arrival in Nottingham in chapter 1 – it happened when he sold her to Squire Thornton. Now Guy doesn't blame others for his own mistakes._

_Robin sacrificed his life for King Richard and for England in chapter 7, and he fiercely fought for his life after the regicide in Imuiz. He fought with the fever that ravaged his body for many weeks; he experienced complications with his wound, but he still fought for survival. Robin fought with death in any incarnation, and that would make him stronger, although he is destined to lose his dreams and illusions (it is a widespread consequence of near-death experiences). So if Robin suffered a lot, why shouldn't Guy suffer? _

_I assure you that Guy will earn his redemption and will become a better man. Guy will never be as self-sacrificing and heroic as Robin because you cannot change a person's "inborn qualities", but he will be "a much better version of himself", something along those lines. Even though it may seem that his life is currently hanging on balance, he won't die and his will won't be broken_ _no matter how many times he will be beaten. Some time ago, I announced that Guy and Robin would survive, so rest assured that I am not going to kill off Guy._

_I hope that you enjoyed some insight into Isabella's personal life. There was a great deal of affliction in her life, and she suffered a lot in her dreadful marriage to Squire Thornton, which brutalized and coarsened her. Now she is interested only in amassing power and wealth, which is why she needs to keep herself in Prince John's good graces. But Isabella is not a complete monster: she doesn't want to be the prince's mistress and she remembers several men who could give her love that she dreamt to have. Doesn't Isabella's back story tug at pull at your heartstrings?_

_Megan met with Amicia de Beaumont, King Richard's personal spy and Prince John's other mistress. So far I am "building" Meg's portrayal, and I hope you like her. In the next chapter, Meg will begin to act, trying to unveil the mystery of King Richard's disappearance. As for Marian, I warned you that there would be a drama between Guy, Marian, and Meg in part 3 "Fight for Peace", with Robin's participation, by the way. I think you will find Meg's storyline interesting – she is different from the BBC's Meg._

_Now you also know what happened to the outlaws after Guy's arrest. Allan and Little John are in the woods, which is logical because King Richard didn't return. Much went to Eve, for she is the only thing that ties him to life after Robin's supposed death. Well, at least they tried to find and save Guy._

_It is historically correct that King Richard disappeared on the way from the Holy Land; later you will learn what happened to the king. Roger de Lacy's drama in England is also historical correct, except for the fact that he wasn't arrested by Prince John and his men, but for fictional purposes I need him to be the prince's prisoner for some time. You see what is happening during England in Robin's absence? The country is in anarchy, the violence is unbearable, and civil society broke down!_

_Robin will reappear in the next chapter. He will have an interesting conversation with Archer. _

_Something else! If you are a fan of Robin and Guy, then I recommend that you give a try to the story called "Both Sides of the Coin" by Coleen561. I really did like it._

**_Reviews are always appreciated, including well-grounded criticism._**

_If you find any typos and/or mistakes here, please let me know about them in a private message. _

_Thank you for reading this chapter. Have a lovely weekend._

_Yours faithfully, Penelope Clemence_


	16. Chapter 15 An Ocean of Confusion

**Chapter 15**

**An Ocean of Confusion**

In Jerusalem, Robin felt better day by day. More than four months passed since he had been stabbed by Vaisey in Imuiz, and his grievous wound was mostly healed. Djaq and Yussuf no longer bandaged the wound, and there was a long disfiguring scar in the lower part of his stomach. The scar and the area around the wound were of an unhealthy color – mostly red – because many scarred tissues formed on the back of the repeated cutting of rotting flesh and double cauterization. Djaq promised that the skin would change its color after special treatment to combat excessive scar tissue formation.

To speed up the healing of his injury, Robin accepted Djaq's offer to undergo soaking therapy: he allowed her to have the damaged area cleaned with wine, mixed with rose oil or salt water, and he also agreed to have regular baths with myrrh and different types of oil. He liked bathing procedures as they relaxed him and lessened the tension of his muscles, which always increased if he walked for a long time or did much physical exercise; he also enjoyed imagining that he was not a soldier healing from a nearly mortal wound but a pampered child indulging himself in pleasantries.

There was a swimming pool in the alcove of his chamber, and Robin bathed himself there. Bottles with various oils stood on a table near the pool, which he added to the water in the pool. He was surprised to find out that he actually enjoyed when his entire body was swimming in aromatic oiled water.

Robin lay in the pool, floating in the water and staring up at the Saracen patterns on the vaulted ceiling. His face was seemingly ablaze from the bright beams of sunlight falling upon it. He stirred only after a while, only when he began to feel cold as the water had already cooled a little bit. He called a servant who swiftly brought several buckets of warm water, and soon he again lay still, with his eyes squeezed tightly and a lazy smile gracing his features as he basked in the warm nothingness.

"Paradise?" Djaq asked, smiling down at Robin.

Robin opened his eyes and stared at Djaq with a dreamy smile. "My good physician, it is even better."

"Don't stay in the water for so long," Djaq advised.

"Fine. I won't."

She arched a brow. "Then get out of the pool."

"Then you need to leave, Djaq. I cannot climb out of the water while you are here."

Djaq took soft a huge white cloth from a nearby coach, and approached the pool. "Take it, although I don't know what part of you I haven't seen yet," she teased him.

Robin frantically grabbed the cloth. "What?"

She laughed at him. "I spent several months tending to your wound. I was with you when you were unconscious and feverish. Don't you think that I have already seen everything you want to cover?"

Robin gaped, and a blush started to creep across his cheeks. "You saw me completely naked?"

"Robin, I acted as your physician, not as one of your numerous female admirers," Djaq hurried to say. "But, I have to say, that you are a handsome little bird, as one of your Crusader friends calls you."

Robin's eyes were enormous, his lips moving soundlessly. Then his initial embarrassment faded, and he grinned brazenly. "Well, I am not ugly at all."

Djaq laughed, her eyes sparkling. "Oh, Robin, Robin… Modesty has never been your virtue."

He smiled at her words. "Of course, not."

"Dry and dress yourself, or you will drown in oil," Djaq retorted with an amused little laugh.

Robin hastily climbed out of the water and grabbed the soft cloth. He eyed himself again and smiled at the thought that he didn't have many scars from his battles in the Holy Land, except for the scar from Gisborne's dagger and now from Vaisey's blade. Unlike many other knights, he had lived through the first five years of his fight almost unscathed, and only now he began to realize that it was so not only because he was great with a sword and a bow, but also because King Richard had probably commanded to protect him in battles.

He donned a long red silk tunic with golden embroidery on the front and the sleeves. In ten minutes, Robin and Djaq sat at the low Arabic table, propped on numerous silk pillows.

"I feel… quite well. When may I travel to Acre?" Robin broke the silence.

"In two-three weeks, Robin."

He sucked in a long breath, expelling the air slowly from his lungs. "Please tell me the truth... Will the wound ever heal completely?" Every time he thought of the regicide attempt in Imuiz and of his injury, he broke into a cold sweat, his heart pumped hard, and his fear was overwhelming, as if he were watching a bolt of lightning streaking across the sky.

Djaq nodded in affirmation. "The wound is grave, but I think that there will be no lingering effects. Be prepared that there will be pain for quite some time as the tissues and muscles are still healing, but it will disappear in the end. You need several more months to completely recuperate."

"And what about physical exercise?"

"Well, you are doing some now."

"But it is so painful, Djaq!"

"That's what I told you. You have to be patient; you will be alright in a due time."

He sighed with relief. "Will I be able to fight?"

She chuckled. "Oh, yes, you will be able to show off your outstanding skills with a bow and a sword."

He grinned. "Then it is not too bad."

She smiled, her eyes glistening with joy. "You are a lucky man, Robin. We thought that you would die, but you were clinging to life against all odds_._" She was quiet for a moment, thinking whether or not she should say anything about what she was really thinking of his survival. "You and I might not concur in opinions, but I agree with Malik that God spared your life for a reason."

"I don't know, Djaq. I don't know," he replied grimly.

In Jerusalem, Robin lived in isolation from reality – from the Holy Land with its brutal slaughter, from the memories of England, and from everyone whom had left in Acre. He had a content, calm life, recovering from his fatal injury, and for a moment, he could pretend that nothing existed outside his small world; he could even forget that he had gone to war years ago. In real life, everything was different: he saved many people in Nottingham and took care of the poor; he killed people and often killed easily; he saved England and his king. And he feared to face reality that could make him more emotionally fragile than he already was.

Smiling at Robin, Djaq leaned across the table and patted his shoulder. "Near-death experiences are always… difficult. But you are alive, and that's all what matters."

Robin's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Thank you for everything you did for me."

"You will be alright over time," Djaq promised as she lay back on the pillows.

"Djaq, did I say anything… strange in delirium?" Robin asked worriedly, a deep frown crossing his forehead. His eyes were on Djaq's calm features, his mind grappling with the unsettling knowledge that he could have said something he must have never told anyone.

"You spoke about many things, Robin."

"Did I… speak about King Richard?" Again, a sinking feeling permeated his heart: if he had given away his secrets, it was too dangerous for the Plantagenets, for England, and for many others.

Djaq drew a deep breath. "Quite a lot."

Fear obvious in his eyes, Robin's face darkened in anxiety. "Did I say something… strange?"

"Yes," Djaq said painfully. "You spoke about your true relationship with the king."

"What did I say?" he asked numbly.

"You said that you are his brother," Djaq answered, looking at him straight in the eye.

The confession caused a shocked silence. A few moments passed, and neither of them said anything. The length of silence reached an uncomfortable level.

Robin lowered his head, hiding his concerned grimace with a hand over his mouth; his thoughts were churning and scraping at the inside of his mind. He sat speechless and motionless, his mind fighting against the assault of despair and confusion. Then he felt a movement nearby, a stealthy sense of someone moving towards him – it was Djaq who shifted on the pillows towards him, but he didn't see her as his shock rendered him dumb. Then he felt Djaq's hand clasping his, and he looked into her dark sympathetic eyes that were soothing his fears without a voice.

Djaq smiled cordially at him. "You spoke about King Richard and many of us heard it; you called him. Once you said about the blood bonds that tie you to Richard, but at that moment, only Prince Malik and I were with you; nobody else heard that."

Robin nodded slowly. "It is the secret of life and death, and I cannot tell anyone about it. It may cost many lives, even my own life. It will lead to chaos in the Angevin Empire."

"Do you think that I wish you any harm, Robin?"

"No, I don't."

She squeezed his hand tightly in hers, her friendly affection for him written all over her face. "Robin, calm down. Don't overexcite yourself," she admonished. "Neither Malik nor I will ever utter a word about it. Even Will knows nothing, and I swear I will never tell him anything."

"Thank you." He rested a hand fondly on the young Saracen's shoulder.

"Welcome." She sighed. "You don't remember what happened to you?"

He shook his head. "No, I don't. I still don't know how I got to Jerusalem."

"Well, one man saved your life. He is here now. You will have a chance to talk to him later."

"Archer," Robin said curiously. "I haven't talked to him yet, but I will."

On the same evening, Robin asked Will and Djaq to invite Archer to his bedchamber.

Comfortably cushioned on the bed, Robin listened attentively to Archer's enthralling tale of salvation, murder, and escape. Robin's countenance was neutral even when Archer became explaining his role in the hero's salvation, unfolding the story of how he had killed the Bedouin to save their lives, had put Robin in a cart, and had travelled to Jerusalem from the region adjacent to the Dead Sea.

"Why did you want to kill the king and me?" Robin questioned bluntly.

Archer looked stupefied for a moment, and then he grinned sheepishly. "Well, I am your half-brother. Sir Malcolm of Locksley… was my father."

There was a sudden silence, and all eyes riveted on Archer's grinning features. Only Robin looked serious, thinking that his first suspicions had proved correct.

Will regarded Archer untrustworthily. "Robin is Sir Malcolm's only son!"

"Well, he had a secret love affair with Lady Ghislane of Gisborne," Archer clarified. "I am Malcolm of Locksley's illegitimate son. Guy of Gisborne is my half-brother."

Robin studied Archer for a moment, his gaze penetrating deep. "Show me your birthmark, Archer."

"What?" Archer looked abashed. "You knew? You are a truly shameless and cruel man, Robin Hood! You knew the truth and allowed me to be raised by unknown people! I was considered a bastard of beggars or peasants! I spent the first twelve years of my life in an orphanage! I never knew that I am of noble blood! I had to live in poverty and struggle for a piece of bread! I had to–"

Robin interrupted him, annoyed. "Archer, I am not intending to have a rumpus here," he said, drawing a long breath. "Just show me your birthmark, and then we will talk," he added nonchalantly.

Will and Djaq shared agitated glances, shaking their heads in disapproval.

His face contorted with anger, Archer pulled up his tunic, exposing the bare flesh. Indeed, he had the distinctive arrow shaped birthmark on his stomach. "Now you see it! I am your half-brother, Robin Hood!" he blustered as he pulled down his tunic.

"Yes, you are my half-brother," Robin confirmed. "You shouldn't be angry with me. I learnt about your existence several days before the regicide attempt in Imuiz."

"Well, it is good." Archer looked relieved and somewhat embarrassed.

"And you, young man, tried to kill Robin to take your revenge on him for having everything while you had nothing?" Djaq said brusquely, demonstrating her keen intellect.

Archer looked uncomfortable. "Exactly," he admitted reluctantly. "I didn't plan to kill King Richard, although I told Prince John a different story. I wanted to kill Robin because I hated him for having everything I never had. I didn't know Robin well… And then I understood that I made a great mistake."

"Hmm," Will grunted. "And with this purpose, you came to Acre to murder Robin and the king."

"Everyone has a right for a mistake. We all are human, and nobody is perfect," Robin intervened.

Archer took a deep breath. "I told you the truth that Prince John hired me to kill King Richard and Robin. I switched sides in Imuiz and fought on your side." He gave Will a cold glare. "I discovered that Robin was alive when all of you fled to Acre from the sandstorm. I saved Robin's life from the Bedouins. If I had wanted him dead, I would have thrown him off the cart on the way to Jerusalem, leaving him in the desert to die from a fever and thirst!"

"Archer has redeemed himself," Robin annunciated with a ring of finality in his firm and insistent voice. "Archer saved me. I owe him my life, and I will never forget this." He gave a bleak smile. "He is my brother. I am not going to persecute him for his faults."

Archer gazed at Robin in disbelief. And then he smiled. "Thank you, Robin."

Djaq gave a smile. "Archer, I think that you have much in common with Robin." She glanced over Archer. "You smile like Robin. You have the eyes of the same rare color – pale blue. You possess the same natural charm as Robin has. There is an air of smugness about you, which makes you very similar to him; but you are able to accept your mistakes and make amends."

"You think so?" Archer asked curiously.

"Yes, young man," Djaq replied gladsomely.

Soon Will and Djaq excused themselves and retired to bed. Archer remained with Robin who requested that he stay for a while. In the yellow glowing light from the burning oil lamps and lanterns, the two brothers struck an unusual vision as they watched each other in an omniscient silence, each of them well aware of how much more they had to tell one another.

Robin eyed Archer, his gaze roving and coming to a halt at the other man's eyes. He was surprised to find some resemblance between them. "Who told you the truth about your birth?" he broached the subject that he had been dreading since Archer's confession to being Malcolm's bastard.

"Our father," Archer replied briefly.

Robin blinked in disbelief. "Who?"

"Robin, it sounds impossible, but it is true. Our father is alive," Archer said softly. He could see Robin's shock, and a flood of sympathy rolled through him. "He found me in Byzantine Empire over a year and a half ago after he had spent several years in Tyre, in Saracen captivity. And then he told me that I was his and Lady Ghislane of Gisborne's son." He sighed. "He informed me that you became the Earl of Huntingdon after his supposed death in the fire."

"Did he tell you why he disappeared after the fire?" Robin sighed loudly, distressed.

"No, he didn't. He only said that he _had to hide_," Archer said, a smirk on his lips. "He said that you are a rich earl and King Richard's favorite, and he recommended that I find you." He laughed bitterly. "He implied that you would take care of me, although it was too late for him to play a role of a loving and caring father."

"Tell me everything," Robin said in a voice that was barely hiding his foul mood.

Archer relayed a tale about his life in the orphanage; he had been treated cruelly there and had used the first chance to escape. He told about his life in the East and what he had learnt there: he had been taught Turkish swordsmanship and spearmanship, he had acquired skills with a Saracen re-curved bow and some kinds of Saracens' exotic weapons, and he had learnt various languages, mathematics, and many other things, which impressed Robin a lot. Robin smirked when Archer said that he could shoot a man from a hundred feet; it appeared that archery skills were the Huntingdon legacy.

As Archer started telling him about his conversation with Malcolm, Robin felt anger simmer in his blood. Robin was disappointed in his father. He realized why Malcolm had gone into hiding, assuming Eleanor of Aquitaine had commanded his father to vanish and never come back to keep Robin alive and out of grave danger to be killed at King Henry's behest; after the fire at Gisborne Manor, Malcolm was doomed to live in shadows until his dying day, but Archer didn't need to know about that.

There was a dangerous silence when Archer finished speaking. Breathless from telling his story, he leaned back against the pillows on Robin's bed and wearily closed his eyes, waiting for Robin to speak. However, Robin was silent for a long time, watching Archer with an understanding that far outmatched Archer's, which puzzled Archer. It was not easy for the two of them as it evoked too many emotions in their hearts – resentment towards their father and astonishment that Malcolm had chosen, suddenly and unexpectedly, to find Archer after so many years of silence.

The night was deepening. Through the opened double doors of the balcony, Robin and Archer noticed a pale slip of the crescent moon and a multitude of stars shimmering in the blue-black sky.

"Is it the whole story?" Robin asked after a pause.

"Yes," Archer breathed every word, his heart pounding in anxiety as he waited for Robin's reaction.

"Your whole life seems to be a startling experience," Robin commented.

"Yes, it is." Archer looked thoughtful. "I was astonished observing Isabella and Guy on a ship to Acre. At first, I thought that Guy was a villain as he sold his sister into a marriage to an unknown man. I pitied Isabella and tried to help her." He relapsed into silence, collecting his thoughts before speaking. "I couldn't imagine that Isabella was against King Richard. She is a cunning bitch."

Looking at him, Robin grinned. "I am a conniving fox, too. What do you think of it?"

Archer smiled. "We both are foxes in our own ways, Robin, although I believe that our father is a much more conniving man than each of us may ever be." He clenched his fists; his smile was gone, and his lips thinned. "Father betrayed both of us. Even though you lived in luxury, you were an orphan – he abandoned you, and it is a betrayal. And he didn't care for me and placed me in the orphanage."

"Oh!" Robin returned, a playful expression on his face. "What a traitor our father is!"

"Robin, I am being serious! Our father is a rake and a scoundrel!"

"A scoundrel, a liar, and a cheat," Robin agreed. He laughed at the thought that _his father had sired two illegitimate sons and had abandoned both of them_. He still couldn't understand and accept how his father could have stooped so low as to have an affair with Queen Eleanor, even though she herself had wanted him. His face didn't betray his emotional turbulence, and he grinned widely. "But you have something in common with our father. You are unscrupulous, dangerous, knavish, and crafty."

"Eh?" Archer spluttered, dismayed. "But aren't these qualities yours as well?"

"Well, I believe that I have taken more after my mother than my father," Robin said as he reminisced what Richard had told him about his similarity to Eleanor.

"Your mother died? What was her name?" Archer was curious.

The question bruised Robin's keenest nerves. He felt a lump form in his throat, and every muscle of his body tautened. "She died in childbirth. Her name was Elizabeth," he stated with a faraway look.

All at once, some spiritual vision blazed through Robin's mind, and its effect was seen in an accession of light illuminating his soul. Robin felt how foreign the words about Lady Elizabeth of Locksley sounded to him. Had he already accepted that he was Queen Eleanor's illegitimate son? He was confused with his own attitude towards his birth. He only knew that his affection for King Richard had deepened after the revelation of the truth, and he accepted the existence of sacred blood bonds with the king with an open heart.

"My mother died in several days after my birth! What a coincidence!"

Robin gave a nod. "Indeed." He tilted his head, smirking at the younger man. "By the way, whatever you might have thought of me, I have to say that I have never been very crafty and knavish, although I am conniving and original in everything I do. I am also not dangerous for those who don't want to kill the King of England, my friends, innocents, and me."

"I see now that you are different from the image I had in my head," Archer murmured, absently rubbing his chin. "But I am not too bad at all. I am not a villain like the sheriff."

"You are definitely not evil."

Archer's face broke into a radiant smile. "Thank you for your praise, Robin."

"Archer, I am going to officially accept you in the Huntingdon family," Robin informed.

"Really?" Archer gasped with amazement.

"Yes." Robin nodded. "I will acknowledge you as Archer of Locksley and my half-brother. I will transfer on your name one of my fiefdoms, and you will be a lord and my vassal. Of course, you won't be the Earl of Huntingdon as this is my title… by birthright, but you will have your own land."

"Are you really serious?" Archer demanded incredulously.

Robin nodded. "Yes, I am."

"I would be grateful."

"Our father should have done that a long time ago." Robin huffed in anger that, however, swiftly slackened. "You saved King Richard's life when Vaisey stabbed me. I believe that he will reward you."

Sending him an impatient look, Archer asked, "And what will I get from the king?"

The sandy-colored man smiled with honest warmth. "Greedy?"

The younger man smiled back. "Yes, I am."

Robin moved his body on the bed, a movement too quick and too precipitous. A bolt of pain ripped from his lower stomach and down his leg as his wound throbbed in pain. "Oh, damn," he moaned, catching his breath as a spasm crossed his face.

"Are you alright? Do you need anything?" Archer asked in trepidation.

"I am as fine as it can be." Robin ran a hand across his brow; then he jumped to another subject. "The king never forgets those who saved his life. He may give you some land or even a title, although I think that he will reward you with lands and will offer you a position in his household."

Archer looked impressed, his eyes twinkling in delight. "Oh, my! It would be absolutely wonderful!"

With the effort, Robin propped himself up on the pillows, giving Archer a long, distant look, as though he hadn't been in the same room. "I had been a prime example of an arrogant and spoiled youth before I joined the Crusade. I was a pampered nobleman, although I was a generous lord and cared for my people." His face turned somber, and he glanced away, staring unfocusedly at a burning oil lamp. "Here, in the Holy Land, I saw many people dying for nothing. Noblemen, squires, servants, and Saracen soldiers – everyone died in cruel and pointless battles for a patch of land that belongs to everyone. Everyone spilled blood for the king, for the Grace of God, and for their survival, and that taught me to look at others in a different light."

Archer eyed Robin's profile in admiration. "You are so different from I used to think of you."

"Your opinion of me was based on rumors," Robin said absently, his eyes still fixed on the lamp.

"I cannot deny that."

"But there is some truth in rumors."

"Not about you," Archer countered.

Robin granted his half-brother a doleful smile. "Maybe."

"I don't know how you spent so many years in the Holy Land," Archer said seriously. "I hate the desert and the volatile local climate with freezing cold in nighttime and lethal heat in daytime. I told you that I visited this place four years ago, during my journey in the East, but I quickly left for Cyprus and Antioche, and then travelled to Byzantine Empire. I spent only weeks in Acre, but I quickly grew to hate it."

At last, Robin turned his head to Archer. "Well, you might be surprised to learn that I wasn't very fond of living in the desert and fighting with the Saracens. I regretted that I had gone to war."

"Robin, I have heard a lot about you. It seemed that in Acre everyone talked about you."

"Really?" Robin smiled.

"Yes," Archer confirmed. "The name of the brave Captain Locksley was spoken with adoration and envy. I wasn't aware about our relationship, but I memorized your name."

Robin arched a brow. "Interesting."

"It is unbelievable that you turned out to be my brother!"

Robin's face morphed into utmost seriousness. "Archer, did you tell someone else about your true parentage? Do Guy and Isabella of Gisborne know the truth?"

"Although I spent much time with them on the way to Acre, I said nothing," Archer responded as he sat up on the bed, staring at Robin.

"Good." Anxiety splashed into Robin's chest as he thought of his secret. Endeavoring to maintain a calm demeanor, he said, "Archer, you should never tell anyone that our father is alive. Even Gisborne shouldn't know about his survival, at least until I permit you to reveal the truth." It sounded as an order from a commander to his soldier. "Take my words seriously."

"But why?" Archer was bewildered.

Robin was lucky to have the answer at his fingertips. At his brother's puzzled expression, he laughed outright. "Yeah, Archer," he drawled, his expression changing into good-humored, honest intelligence. "You have just astonished me with your brilliance." He flashed an easy smile. "I thought that you would understand that I cannot allow anyone to disgrace the family name more than I myself have already done that." As Archer's puzzled face, he decided to elaborate. "I rebelled against Prince John in England, and although I think that I did the right thing, King Richard has the opposite opinion. I cannot disgrace myself and the honorable name of the Huntingdons when I am married to the king's cousin."

Archer nodded in understanding. "I got it. Don't worry."

"Good." Robin again stared silently into the flames, engrossed in his thoughts.

A glum silence ensued. Robin was absorbed in his thoughts of Guy and Marian for a while, but then his mind drifted back to Melisende, and somehow his anxiety eased. But Archer wanted to talk to Robin, interested in his life, and Robin's silence made him feel annoyed.

"Robin?" Archer called.

Robin turned his gaze at Archer. "Yes?"

"You are not telling me everything?"

"There is always something we don't need to know," Robin said in an undertone of mystification. He would never share his secret even with Archer; Gisborne had to know the truth because the secret of Robin's true origin played a role in their lives, but Archer had no linkage to the matter.

Archer simply nodded as he accepted Robin's response. There was nothing else he could ask on the matter, although he hankered to unriddle Robin's mysteries.

"Will you ever forgive me for siding with Prince John?" Archer said, his voice husky. "I am sorry. I lost my head. When I learnt the truth from our father, I felt as if my head were bursting. I thought that I was going mad. And I was insanely outraged."

Robin was trembling with anger. "I understand you, Archer. When I think of our father, I myself feel like howling at the moon, or dipping my hands in the desert sand, or worse – spewing blasphemies and writing them on one of the walls in this chamber." He sighed deeply. "I have already forgiven you. I know that you didn't mean to kill the king and even saved his life. You also saved my life."

"I am really glad," Archer uttered. "And I must forgive myself – for many things. And I don't see that happening anytime soon."

Robin's anger abated. "You think of many things in the same way I do."

"Well, we share blood, don't we?"

Robin tipped his chin. "Yes, of course. It is simply interesting to analyze what we have in common." He looked melancholic. "And whatever I see in you, Archer, or in anyone else, doesn't amaze me." He rubbed his cheek. "I think that nothing can scare, hurt, or amaze me. Nothing."

"Why, Robin?" Archer asked, with a kind of amused lilt to his voice.

"I died and came back from the dead, and now nothing amazes me," the hero retorted meaningfully. He sounded cool and unperturbed in spite of speaking about such things.

"At home you will feel better. You will sort out your thoughts," Archer said in an allaying tone.

Robin heaved a sigh, deep and sore. "My salvation might be blessedness, or it might be not," he said in a hushed voice, feeling as if something vital in his new life were slipping from his fingers every time he got closer to understand it. "I am not sure that I will be able to figure out what exactly happened to my convictions and to my life in the past months. But please don't ask me what I feel. I am not ready to lay my cards on the table; at least not yet. I prefer to keep everything to myself."

Archer nodded wordlessly, wondering what Robin had been like before his death in Imuiz.

§§§

In the next few weeks, Robin's health significantly improved, and it was time to return to Acre. Prince Malik and Prince Al-Afdal recommended that Robin spend several more weeks in Jerusalem, but he declined the offer. His heart was heavy as his king, his wife, and his friends still knew nothing about his survival, for he had refused to send a messenger to them for the purpose of caution; he even insisted that they don't announce the news about his miraculous survival until he sailed from Acre; he was very cautious, for he planned to use his death to the king's advantage and against the Black Knights.

On the evening before Robin's departure from Jerusalem, Saladin invited Robin to have a farewell dinner, and Robin agreed, wishing to thank the master of the East for his hospitality and care. The luxurious dinner was served in Saladin's personal chambers with its several windows open to the still-sun-warmed air of early evening. Prince Malik attended the dinner, talking about the Saracens and Robin's considerable contribution to the achievement of peace in the Holy Land.

Robin was stunned with the sultan's appearance as the legendary Lord of Islam seemed too strange at first. Saladin was a slim, dark-skinned man, shorter than average and not very muscular. He was clearly worn-out both by his age and by war; his face was hollow and wrinkled. His pointed black beard was cut in the style preferred by most Arabic nobles. Dressed in simple robes of white silk and wearing a white turban on his head, he looked more like a Muslim emir than the sultan; the members of his family wore more expensive clothing. But the stern and uncompromising gaze of his brown eyes, his imperious look, and his authoritative tone that underlay his courteous and clever words revealed that he was accustomed to command.

As the dinner was finished, Saladin looked at Robin. "Sir Robin, there has never been a war in the Holy Land like the Third Crusade. Believe me that this war is very different from everything we saw in our Muslim world before." His gaze turned more intense. "What do you think about it?"

Robin stared at Saladin blandly, preferring to be reserved and cautious. "As far as you, Your Highness, this war has both good and bad consequences for the Saracens and for you in particular. At one side, we made peace, and we have access to the holy city, but we don't hold it, like King Richard and all Christians planned at the beginning of the Crusade. Now my king left, and no one is threatening your position of power in Cairo, Damascus, or Jerusalem." He paused, sipping warm spiced red wine, which Saladin ordered especially for Robin. "On a flip side, with all due respect to you, I have to say that this war showed that there are great Christian generals who are able to oppose you and win."

Saladin laughed. "I have never had such a great rival as Melek-Ric," he said sincerely. "Melek-Ric is the great warrior king and the shining light of Christendom, who demands nothing less than a total victory and surrender." He pursed his lips, canting his neck slightly. "I have to acknowledge that Melek-Ric pushed me into committing all my strength to total war, which Richard was convinced he couldn't lose." He made a helpless gesture. "Yet, Jerusalem is still in our hands."

Sensing the cue in Saladin's words, Robin smiled wryly. "But are there any winners, Your Highness?" His face turned blank in an instant. "We are no winning parties in brutal wars."

A silent stillness settled over them. Malik listened to the dialogue with bated breath.

"Indeed. We ended in a draw," Saladin admitted, his voice quiet.

Robin rearranged himself into a more elegant stance on his cushions. "I think Outremer is completely unlike the world which all of us knew before King Richard came here. We call these lands 'the Holy Land', but we all know that many things in these lands are _unholy_. It is the world which many people – Christians, Saracen, and Jews – will never understand completely." A sigh tumbled from his lips. "And while people don't comprehend that these lands belong to everyone, wars will continue."

Saladin laughed heartily. "Well, I cannot disagree."

"Then we understand each other," Robin said.

Robin took a new goblet of wine from a servant who filled it with wine. Then the same servant poured out wine for Saladin and Malik, and then he left the chamber.

"What is Jerusalem worth?" Saladin asked Robin directly.

"Nothing and everything." Robin always chose weasel words answering provocative questions.

Saladin nodded, his face expressionless, but his eyes aflame. "I remember you when you were younger. I saw you in the battle of Arsuf for the first time."

"You saw me before?" Robin was amazed.

"From a huge distance, Sir Robin," Saladin continued. "In the woods of Arsuf, my army fell on Melek-Ric's troops from all sides; you were outnumbered seven to one in our benefit." He tapped his chin. "But Melek-Ric committed all his forces to the attack and led them to the greatest victory. He pursued my men with singular ferocity, falling upon them and slaughtering everyone when his sword made contact with them." He pointed a finger at Robin. "It was when I saw you, Sir Robin, on your white stallion riding near Melek-Ric; you were cutting down my men as if you were hunting a prey."

Robin flushed; he didn't like the topic. "What did you see in me then? Cruelty? Hatred?"

The Sultan shook his head. "No. I saw that you are a prized warrior, Robin of Locksley, honored for your courage, military skills, and high-principled audacity." He smiled. "But I also saw another thing in the first moments after the end of the battle: you and the Earl of Leicester crouched on the battlefield, looking down, at the crimson-soaked sand, while others cheered and celebrated." He chuckled. "It was clear that Melek-Ric's greatest victory satisfied your pride and hotheaded arrogance, but not your heart."

Prince Malik smiled at Robin, understanding that the young man had been already growing sick of bloodshed by the time when the battle of Arsuf had taken place.

"It is true. Robert and I didn't like what we saw," Robin admittedly.

Saladin stared at Robin with esteem. "You are a good and clever man, Robin of Locksley. Melek-Ric is lucky to have you among his subjects and close friends." He flashed Robin a smile of rare warmth. "And I have to say that you are a remarkable creature among so many pale-faced men whom I still don't understand." He looked at the young man with what seemed to me to be a solicitous stare. "But before I retire for the night, I want to tell you something, Sir Robin."

Robin arched a brow. "I am at your disposal, Your Highness."

"Lift your eyes higher, Sir Robin," Saladin began in a metaphorical sense, smiling at Robin. "Of course, there is another world, a better place than earth." His expression transformed to detachment. "Our world is a dying ember, there only darkness here; some other unknown worlds are like rising suns, and there is much light there." He raised his voice. "But there is no point in thinking about these worlds while you are alive. There is no need to dream of getting back to light from darkness, Sir Robin, even if for an instant, just for an instant, you think that you will feel better in another world."

Robin took steadying, fortifying breaths, anything to stave off an impetuous attack of anxiety. Saladin was an intelligent and wise man, who saw through him, gauging his most intimate thoughts. In the bright orange firelight flowing from the gilded lamps on the ceiling, his face seemed to churn within decision to say what troubled him for a long time.

Robin looked composed, but inside his whole being was torn between angels of light and demons of darkness. A feeling of confusion pervaded him. "I have long been thinking of our life on earth," he began in a philosophical tone. He trailed off; his lips touched the rim of his goblet, and he drank some wine. "Why did we come here, to this life? Why did any of us come here – if not to try and make the world better and perfect? But there is no perfection in real life! Those who dream of living in an ideal world are doomed to be hurt deeply when they realize that their high and mighty principles don't work and that our world is darker than they believed it to be." He set the goblet on the table.

"There is no perfection that is a relative thing. There is no ideal world without bloodshed," Saladin noted contemplatively. "All ideals are created and nourished by people's imagination."

Robin was conflicted over his feelings and his perception of life, but there was one thing he knew for sure – the world wasn't ideal. "I no longer want to make the world ideal. I am disillusioned."

Saladin smiled. "Sir Robin, you cannot ignore reality if you don't like. You cannot forget your past and start anew, rebuilding the world and your life entirely from scratch." He raised his goblet and sipped wine. "You have to accept reality, even if you hate it. But it won't be easy for you, although it might be easier than before."

Robin looked uncertain. "Perhaps, my confusion is the price for my survival."

"I don't think so, Sir Robin," Saladin contravened. "You will have to do your best not to lose yourself in your new life. For some time, you will feel pessimistic, like never seeing the rainbow after a storm, but you will find your path." He raised his voice. "You, the Crusades, say: '_Deus voluit – God wills it'_. Peace be with you, young man."

Robin smiled, relaxing a little. "_For every man there is a purpose which he sets up in his life. Let yours be the doing of all good deeds_," he quoted from Quran. "I hope that peace will reign in your lands as long as possible, Ṣalāḥ ad-Dīn Yūsuf ibn Ayyūb."

As Saladin had retired for the night, Prince Malik invited Robin to his quarters, wishing to have a private conversation with his friend. They entered a luxurious chamber on the second floor of the palace. Rich crimson Turkish carpets covered the floor, and the walls were hung with silk tapestries of red and orange colors. It seemed that everything glowered red around them, as if they stood in the rays of a sinking sun. Gilded lamps hung from the ceiling, casting a pool of light, into which they stepped as they walked to a low table and cushions spread on the carpet.

"God returned you to the land of living for a reason, Robin," Prince Malik repeated the words which he had already said before. "Your mission on earth is not finished."

"I don't know." Robin shook his head in uncertainty. He was too confused by the turbulent emotions that were bubbling in his chest since he had emerged from the deep slumber.

"You are confused," Malik concluded.

Robin gazed away. "I am."

"Robin, you died and then came back. It always changes a person a lot," Malik said carefully, looking at him with concern. "Yussuf, my physician, says that near-death experiences always elicit in people multiple sensations – from feelings of levitation and total serenity to dissolution, pain, and dread."

"Oh," Robin breathed, feeling a shiver cascading down his spine.

"What did you see, Robin, when you died?"

"I saw a lot of light. I felt… good, calm, and safe, and then there was only inky darkness." Robin smiled vaguely, remembering a sensation of perfect bliss which he had experienced in his dying moments. For the first time since his awakening, he could speak about it. "When I died, I felt such lightness that I had never felt in life. I felt as if I had awakened from a long sleep full of fearful dreams and nightmares."

The prince put a comforting hand on Robin's shoulder, gazing into his eyes. "God wanted you to live. Always remember this and forget about everything else. All good things that happen to us in life surely come from God alone."

Robin shook his head, unable to speak. A short silence stretched between them.

"You read Quran, Robin." Malik sent his Christian friend a long, thoughtful look. "Remember what is said about God's will and blessings there: '_And thy Lord creates whatever He pleases and chooses whomsoever He pleases. It is not for them to choose. Glorified be Allah, and far is He above all that they associate with Him'_. Does it make sense to you?"

A lackluster smile flitted across Robin's face. "I am grateful to God for my life. I didn't want to die, and I am not going to die again," he supplied, his face brightening ever so lightly.

"Only remember what God says about being grateful, Robin: '_The more you thank Me, the more I give you. But if you turn unappreciative, then My retribution is severe'_. It has a great meaning for everyone, for every living creature in the world."

"This is not about me," Robin assured. "My principle is not to think of whom I will kill when I draw my sword, but to think of whom I will spare and how many people I will save."

Malik contemplated him Robin admiringly. "You are the noblest and most foolhardy man whom I have ever met."

"You are too kind, Malik."

Robin fell silent. He looked around, at the red and orange hangings and decorations in the chamber, and they reminded him of Vaisey. He instinctively associated the colors of rising and setting sun with blood – the sheriff's blood. A cold and bloody rage overtook him, his mind drifting back to the image of the sneering, ugly face with jeweled tooth gleaming in the rays of the fierce, relentless sun.

For so long, Robin had thought that he had hated Gisborne most of all among all men, but now his hatred for Guy was gone. Instead, he hated Vaisey with murderous, implacable hatred, and this feeling took possession of his whole heart. He wanted Vaisey dead so much! Darkness was closing over him like a grave, but he hastened into that darkness that burst forth in his heart. He also felt exultation as he was still in life and Vaisey had lost in the round of their game that had ended in Imuiz.

"Robin?" Malik seemed to be searching for delicate words, his eyes taking in Robin's pallid face and focusing on his eyes blazing with fire.

Robin turned his attention back to the prince. "Sorry, Malik, I was a little distracted."

"It takes wisdom to live a life as God wills it," Malik said rhetorically, his eyes at Robin. "But for some men, like you, it is easier than for others." He smiled cordially. "You are wiser than many other Christians in the matters of kindness and goodness, but you lack an ability to accept real life as it is – in all its darkness." He touched his rings on his right hand, staring at Robin with slightly raised brows. "I believe your last experience with life and death made you wiser and more mature, right?"

Robin stared at Malik in amazement, and all the color drained from his face. The prince learnt to read his thoughts, which very few people could do, for Robin's mind, with all its unusual intricacies, was too complicated for an ordinary man's understanding. "What do you want to say?" he inquired uneasily.

Prince Malik laughed. "Don't worry, for I am not going to lecture you," he said almost gently. "I only want to say that sometimes it is wiser to hold back from action before emotions – hatred, love, dislike, or thirst for revenge – overwhelm you and cloud your judgment."

The fire in Robin's eyes burned brighter than ever. "You are right, my friend. There was one man whom I hated more than others, but I don't hate him anymore." There was an undisguised sharp anger in his eyes. "Now I hate another man. And I want to spill his blood."

"The fate of this evil man bothers you. You want vengeance in your heart. And you are planning something very dark."

"Yes," Robin confirmed, his eyes ablaze, his mouth tightening. "I want to kill the man who sent me to the pits of hell when he almost killed me several months ago."

"I know whom you mean – Sheriff Vaisey," Malik said with a woesome sigh. "You saved me from him in Nottingham." He paused, his eyes examining Robin closely. "Vaisey's retribution is no longer your concern. Forget about revenge. You saw the light of Heaven in afterlife, and it is a good sign – light, not vengeance and darkness, must fill your life."

Robin looked pained, almost sickened, not knowing how the prince had guessed his plans to cruelly murder the sheriff. "No vengeance even if Vaisey caused so much pain to King Richard, my friends, countless innocents, and me?"

"No vengeance. Not in the slightest degree," Malik retorted. "You are nobler than the sheriff, and you shouldn't become an executioner of the man who almost killed you. Kill him only if you have to and have a chance, but don't let yearning for revenge overwhelm your heart. Leave this villain's punishment to Melek-Ric, for he will do everything for you."

"Ah, you know about–" Robin broke off.

"We do know, Robin. But you should never worry – my tongue will never loosen."

Robin smiled. "I believe you. Thank you."

Malik smiled back at him. "Welcome."

"Although I didn't like being in the lions' den when you criticized my quest for vengeance, I am grateful for your concern," Robin said, sidestepping the topic as he didn't wish to discuss it. He knew that the prince wouldn't renege on his word to keep his secret, and that was enough for him.

Malik only nodded, hoping that his friend would take his little preach into consideration. "I have a special gift for you, Robin. I am sure that you shall like it," he declared earnestly.

Malik led Robin into the adjacent chamber. The oil lamps had yet to be lit there, and twilight shadows filled the room. Malik approached a low table in the corner, his eyes landing on two objects – a golden scimitar with a jeweled hilt and a recurved Saracen bow.

The prince swung his gaze to Robin. "I thought that you wouldn't want to use your old scimitar again."

"I think I won't, given that I was stabbed with my own scimitar." There was much bitterness in Robin's heart at the thought that he had been almost killed with his own weapon. Yet, somehow he also considered it right and fair, for he had also taken many lives with the same sword.

Malik made an inviting gesture. "Come here, Robin. Come to me."

Robin stalked towards Malik and stopped next to him. He took the scimitar in his hands, grinning from ear to ear. "It is such a useful gift! It is a great gift!"

"I knew that you would like it."

"Thank you." Robin flashed a brilliant smile, his eyes shining with gratitude.

Robin was truly delighted that now he had a new scimitar. He had planned to buy a new one in Jerusalem before his departure, but Malik had taken the initiative upon himself by making this gift to him. He had never liked using an English broadsword, for a scimitar better suited him because of his natural slenderness. Moreover, scimitar was more convenient because of its relatively light weight as compared to a large sword; the curved design of a scimitar was good for slashing his opponents.

Robin practiced some blows straight away. He swung his scimitar in a deadly arc that would have shred anything and everything in its path up to several meters away if he was on the battlefield. Spurred on by enthusiasm, he made an elegant combination of crisscross and downward blows; these blows didn't require significant strength from him. Then he spun around and rushed forward, launching a rampageous assault at his imaginary opponent. Then he set himself in a spin, and it was when he felt pain slash through his lower abdomen and down his right hip.

"Argh," Robin groaned. He was angry that his practice caused him pain, astounded that he could stand straight. The pain in his stomach was so acute that he found it difficult to breathe.

Malik eyed him with concern. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I am."

"Don't strain yourself, Robin."

"I will be more careful next time." Robin looked down, at his new scimitar that he was holding in his hands. The pain receded, and he was able to breathe normally.

Prince Malik decided against asking Robin about his health, suspecting that it would irritate him. "Your new weapons will take every care of you in a moment of need."

"I have no idea where my old weapons are." An eager gleam suddenly leaped into Robin's eyes as his gaze fell on the sapphire emblem of a bird on the hilt of the scimitar. "Is it a jeweled emblem?"

The prince cocked his head. "Your name – Robin – means '_famed, bright, and shining'_, and your weapons must be jeweled." He smiled mischievously. "And, of course, an emblem must be in the form of a bird and made out of sapphires, for your name means a bird and your eyes are like an azure sky."

Robin threw back his head and laughed. "Thank you."

"God bless you, Robin of Locksley," Malik said, smiling warmly. "Safety and peace be with you."

"God bless you, Malik Yūsuf ibn Ayyūb, and may peace reign in your heart," Robin gave his best wishes, smiling in response. "Farewell, my friend."

§§§

Robin arrived in Acre, accompanied by Archer, Will, and Djaq. He didn't plan to delay his departure and was lucky that there was a free ship leaving Acre next morning.

Henry of Jerusalem, Count de Champagne, was delighted to see Robin alive and visibly healthy, although his face expressed real concern as he talked to Robin. Lady Isabella of Jerusalem, Countess de Champagne, flirted with Robin boldly and shamelessly, but he only smiled coldly at her attempts to attract his attention; even de Champagne laughed at his own wife. Henry and Robin had achieved peace, and Robin's scandalous love affair with Isabella no longer stood between them.

As soon as she met Robin again, Isabella of Jerusalem couldn't take her eyes off him. She was in exhilarated spirits, and she wanted him to speak to her, to smile at her, and to compliment her. She could look at him as if she were hypnotized to the point that she forgot about everyone around.

"Lord Huntingdon, you are alive! It is God's gift to meet you again, my noblest knight in the Angevin Empire!" Isabella exclaimed boisterously. "May God keep you, Huntingdon, from being ever wounded again and be taken from King Richard, your friends, and all ladies who are so charmed by you!"

Robin bowed to Isabella. "Thank you for your compassion, Lady Isabella. You are too kind to me."

As soon as Isabella left, Robin shrugged helplessly, looking at Count de Champagne who stood beside him, looking at Robin with a large smile on his lips. And then Henry broke into a merry, ringing laugh, signaling that he wasn't angry with Robin for his wife's indecent behavior. Robin himself was in an elated mood, but he didn't comment on Isabella's off-putting flirtatiousness.

"Robin of Locksley," Henry de Champagne said, with a warm smile hovering over his lips. "You cannot imagine how happy I am that you are alive and have recovered from your grave injury."

Robin let out a joyful laugh. "I am very glad to be alive."

Count de Champagne approached Robin and made a scrupulous perusal of him, as if looking for signs of poor health in his appearance. "How are you now, Robin?"

"I am fine, Henry," Robin murmured.

Henry frowned. "You seem healthy and fresh, as handsome as ever. Yet, I cannot believe that your injury has already healed completely."

"It has been five months since I was stabbed. The wound has almost healed, but it still troubles me quite a lot if I am exhausted and strain my body too much," Robin replied truthfully. "At times, my wound throbs in pain. In this case, I cannot sleep and still use painkilling herbs."

"Maybe you will stay in Acre for several months to recuperate?"

Robin shook his head in disagreement. "I thank you for your hospitality, Henry, but I cannot delay my departure." He emitted a heavy sigh. "I have a feeling of apprehension that the king needs me."

Henry smiled. "King Richard always needs you. And he will be happy to see you alive. He was crushed down with grief after your death." He sighed. "We all were shocked, but King Richard, Robert de Beaumont, Roger de Lacy, and your friend Much were almost dead inside." He smiled. "Your wife, Melisende, was petrified with grief, too."

Robin gave a sad smile. "They will see me soon."

"I am going to drink for your health tonight and during all dinners I will have in the years to come," de Champagne announced, smiling merrily. "God be praised that your life was spared."

"God be praised," Robin echoed automatically.

Henry engulfed Robin in his arms, gentle and cautious to avoid hurting him.

"You are a good man, Robin," de Champagne said as he drew back. "I am glad that we have a truce."

Robin grinned. "I have done my best to have it with you, Henry."

"If you are so determined to leave, Robin, then I wish you best of luck on the way home," Henry said in sweetest tones. "Where are you going first?"

"To Aquitaine and then to England," Robin answered.

"Godspeed, Robin. Please take care of yourself."

"Thank you, Henry. I will."

The happiest person to meet Robin in Acre was Carter, who had spent several months recovering from his nearly fatal wound and then around a month waiting for Robin's return. Carter introduced Friar Tuck to Robin, who asked Robin's permission to escort them to England. Robin wasn't fond of the Hospitallers, scoffing contemptuously that they posed as men of God while having so much blood on their hands. But as Tuck had taken good care of Carter after Djaq's departure to Jerusalem, Robin was bound by honor to agree to have the friar as their companion.

Bassam had finally accepted Will's relationship with his beloved niece and even allowed them to marry in the Arabic traditions. Yet, Will and Djaq didn't want to stay in Acre; they told Robin that they would return to England with him. Djaq was worried about Robin's health and was adamant to take care of her friend, fearing that he would suffer the consequences of his dreadful injury and there would be no competent medics in England to help him. Robin reminded them of their former decision to settle down in Acre, but Will and Djaq only shook their heads.

Dusk was settling over the Mediterranean Sea, turning the sea dark blue as it washed against the hull of a ship sailing from the port of Acre. At this magical hour between night and day, the water seemed to pause its churning waves, and the wind held its breath as the ship slid from the harbor into the unfathomable sea, away from the Holy Land. The sea was smooth like glass in the bright glow of the Middle-Eastern sun. A thick mist crawled from the water, slightly obscuring the vision.

Robin stood on the deck, his eyes taking in the distant yellow-tinted shores of Acre. He turned his gaze at the water and then glanced at the darkening sky, breathing in the salty fresh air with full lungs.

The setting sun exploded on the horizon, turning the water in a shade of red and orange, and afternoon colors changed to red too. Robin shielded his eyes with his hand against the vision, hating that it reminded him so much of death, agony, bloodshed, and truculence of war. All atrocities of war he had witnessed in the Holy Land danced before his eyes in molten waves.

Carter approached Robin from the back. "How are you doing, Robin?"

Robin turned to face the blonde man. "I am just breathing fresh air."

Robin withdrew a velvet-wrapped object from the pocket of his trousers and then unfolded it. He sighed as his gaze dropped to the object in his palm: it was a rather plain ring, but it was elegant, exquisite, and brilliant. In the fading daylight, he surveyed the silver ring of diamonds, lingering his gaze at the massive sapphire in the center, which was carved in the shape of a flower.

"What is it?" Carter inquired.

"It belongs to me now." Twirling the ring in his fingers, Robin raised his head a notch higher to look at the heavens.

"It is a female ring."

Robin looked back at Carter. "This is the ring I gave Marian on our first betrothal. I kept it with me throughout all these years."

A look of surprise expanded on Carter's face. "Why are you keeping it after what she did to you?"

Robin fell into thoughtfulness. "I kept this ring with me during all battles in the Holy Land. It was like my talisman, and I used to think that it saved my life not once," he said, his voice laced with sentimental notes. In spite of all sorrow and pain Marian had brought to his life, his heart glowed with joyfulness and gladness as he looked at the ring. "I never told anyone that I still have it, and even Much doesn't know about this."

Carter tried to sound as cheerful as he could, but he didn't like Robin's unfading attachment to Marian. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone that you still have it."

"I know."

"You are confused with your feelings," Carter finished for him.

"I am confused with everything around me," Robin said in a small voice as he wrapped the ring and put it back in the pockets of his trousers. "I don't know what I will find home."

Robin's death had a colossal impact on both his health and his mind. He felt as if he had fallen into a dark and chasmal abyss, as if he were sinking in an ocean of confusion, trying to stay afloat but failing and instead drowning, as if something were dragging him back into the deep and black waters. He was mastered by a macabre fear, and his imagination was almost barren of the images that fed hope for a bright future. He fantasized that pain and mishap were about to take roots in his life, superseding gladness and enjoyment.

Robin also tried to struggle with uncertainty in his private life. His love sentiments underwent dramatic changes: now he was torn between Melisende and Marian. He thought of these two women simultaneously. He had dreams of them. He compared them with each other, finding that neither of them was ideal. He longed for each of them, and his divided heart troubled him to the core.

Once he had known his feelings and his heart – he had loved only Marian before meeting Melisende. But his death changed everything, and when he tried to realize whom he loved, he didn't have a clue. His old life was shattered to pieces, and Robin lost his path in life. Was it one of the effects death had on him? Or were his changed feelings a figment of his imagination or some magic conjured by Arabian sorcerers?Why was he simultaneously thinking of Melisende, his wife, and Marian, his former betrothed? Did he love the two of them, or was he going mad?

Melisende was very dear to Robin. His heart filled with innate tenderness at the memory of her violet eyes darkened in passion and staring at him in reverent fascination and in fervor of devotion, and a deep serenity slowly settled over him, warming and comforting him. The memory of the rare Plantagenet beauty made him tremble, and the most erotic thoughts flashed in his brain – he wanted his wife as much as he had never wanted any other woman, even Marian. Several days before the disaster in Imuiz, Melisende had confessed her love for him, and that memory sent a shiver of excitement through him. Now, as Robin remembered that, he was both thrilled and shocked with the realization that he treasured his wife's love and he needed her like a man needed air to breathe.

Yet, Robin also remembered Marian's sapphire blue eyes shimmering with tears, and only the sound of Marian's name made his heart beat faster. He could almost hear Marian's words of grief and her pleas for forgiveness which she had spoken to him in Imuiz, and the vision of her tear-stained face was embedded into his mind forever. At the memory of Marian's hypnotizing sapphire eyes, he felt a blinding fire erupt in him, becoming nothing more than a raw nerve of chaotic sensual feelings. The cherished memories of the only time when Robin had taken her maidenhead in the woods sent a thrill of pleasure through his entire being and made his blood run faster through his veins.

Robin tried to distract himself by thinking of King Richard. However, his thoughts could find no resting place outside his love stories with Marian and Melisende. He had a strange feeling in his heart – _he presaged some awful misfortunes_ and had pervasive concerns. He had to come home. He had to find King Richard. He had to return to Melisende, Marian, and his friends. Darkness and light were fighting within him, but Robin refused to surrender to either of these forces, floating somewhere in between and balancing on the brink of ebony despair.

Robin stood on the deck staring somewhere in the air for a long time, too long to make Carter worried about his friend. "Robin, do you hear me?" Carter asked.

Robin smiled. "Yes, of course. I am sorry."

"The Holy Land thing?" Carter gazed compassionately at him.

Robin nodded. "There was time when I couldn't imagine myself living beyond the point when war would end." His chest heaved. "But has it really ended?"

"I doubt it has ended." Carter took Robin's hand in his and gave it a quick squeeze. "We are leaving so many things behind… My brother died here…"

"Thomas was a good man. I liked him very much."

Carter felt almost philosophical. "It was God's will that he died."

Robin stiffened at his words. "Oh."

"Robin," Carter called. "I know what you feel. I myself nearly died."

Robin clasped his friend's hand in his, looking into Carter's eyes. "But we survived. It would have been terrible to lose you like we lost Thomas. Not you, Carter."

There was a flicker of understanding in Carter's eyes. "And I would have been heartbroken if we had lost you to death in these lands. It was not our fate to die here."

"Goodbye, the Holy Land," Robin whispered, his voice hardly coming out as emotions flooded through him. He felt as if the sword of Damocles were hanging over him, exposing him to all kinds of imminent peril. Perhaps, dozens of his dreams of death and bloodshed, which plagued since his first battle in Acre, only passed into another dream – life after his resurrection in constant fear of reality.

His fears didn't diminish his desire to return to England whatsoever. On the contrary, never before had Robin felt such a strong longing for home – for England and for Locksley. Going home meant many things to him, but saying goodbye to the Holy Land meant more at the moment. He was relieved that he was leaving the Holy Land – hostile and brutal and unholy – forever. He would never come back to this damned place again, although the end of the Crusade was not the end of war in his life.

Next morning, Robin emerged on the deck with the first ray of light. He didn't sleep well during the night because the unexpected storm raged with a brutal violence; it was a normal thing for autumn. Robin heard the cries of the ship's captain, his commands spoken in Norman-French, urgent, sharp, and clear. By sunrise, the storm subsided a little, but the waves were still sufficiently unpredictable.

Robin leaned forward above the water, as if he were untroubled by the pitching, rolling motion of the deck beneath his feet. He craned his neck as he watched the choppy water surge beneath him. At one moment it would seem close enough for him to reach down and touch the surface, and then within a heartbeat it swooped away and down, baring the entire side of the ship.

"What are you thinking of, Sir Robin?" Robin heard Friar Tuck's low baritone.

Robin turned his head to Tuck who stood next to him, his gaze cold and thorny; then he glanced up, at the grey sky. "I have been away from home for too long."

Tuck glanced at him as if in surprise. "Happy to be going home?"

Robin sighed, not looking at Tuck. "Living in England is better than in Acre."

"Sir Robin, what will you do after your return to England?"

"I will find King Richard, and then I will think of everything else."

"Maybe you should think about the people in the first place, Sir Robin?"

Robin swung his gaze to the friar. "The king needs me."

Tuck looked curious. "It will break your heart, but I can tell you that you haven't learnt your lesson yet. Are you Robin Hood? Or are you Robin of Locksley?"

Robin detested Tuck, and his disapproval of the annoying friar was growing at a steady pace. "I am not the king's man! I am not the people's hero! I am Robin! I am only Robin!" he cried out, his eyes shooting daggers at Tuck, his visage fretted. "The man you have heard about in the Holy Land when you came there to kill the Saracens, like Carter and I did, vanished in crimson foam of death."

"Are you sure, Lord Huntingdon?" Tuck looked at the young man with challenge. "Try to keep yourself out of trouble, Lord Robin. You are calling for trouble that might swallow you up."

Tuck's speeches were grating on Robin's nerves. "What do you want from me?"

Tuck placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Sir Robin, do you really think that we cannot see through your words and your face? Don't you imagine that we understand what pride you feel for what you accomplished in the Holy Land, having saved your king countless times? And if you are indeed ashamed of feeling proud of your heroics, it is alright that you feel so, but you mustn't blame yourself as you only did your duty to your king and your country."

Robin brusquely brushed his hand off of him and took a step back. "I see that you understand people… rather well."

Tuck's mouth curled in a smile, and he slanted his head to one side. "You are confused now, Sir Robin," he surmised. His conversational spirit was roused more than before. "And God in Heaven knows that you require all the assistance he can send you."

"Are you going to become my savior?" Robin coughed to clear his throat. "Purely for my own peace of mind, I ask you to leave me alone. I don't need your lectures."

"I think you need them to clear your head, Sir Robin," Friar Tuck flung back.

His temper rising, Robin stepped further from the other man. "I am capable of helping myself."

"Your king cannot help you, Sir Robin. You need God's wise assistance," Tuck said meaningfully. "There is the conflict of loyalties in your heart – loyalties to the king and to the people. You are both the king's man and the people's man, but you need to find a right balance."

"I myself know what I need," Robin growled.

Tuck smiled. "King Richard is a great man, and you would go with your king to the ends of earth, even if you do not approve many of his actions." His smile was gone. "And yet, you need to strike a balance between England and the people."

Robin was barely holding onto his temper, and he was also deterred by the monk's spine-tingling speech. "I will never say anything that can somehow discredit my king, my sovereign and my friend."

They watched one another in silence for a while, Tuck with the strange light in his dark eyes and Robin with the wrath in his pale blue eyes.

Friar Tuck resumed speaking quietly, his tone almost musing. "I know that he is your friend, Sir Robin, and I don't ask you to speak against the king. I want to say another thing."

Robin cursed under his breath, and a thunderous scowl crossed his features. "You already know that I have never liked the Hospitallers." There was an air of severity about him. Finally, his anger broke through his veneer of patience. "One more sermon, Friar Tuck, and I will throw you into the sea." Then he turned around and hastened to return to his cabin.

"I recommend that you stop annoying my brother," Archer said in acidulated tones as he appeared behind Tuck. "He is confused, but he is not in need of your advice."

Tuck smiled. "I didn't hurt Sir Robin."

In the next moment, Carter, Will, and Djaq arrived at the deck. They stood behind Archer.

"You are confusing Robin. Stop doing this, Friar Tuck," Djaq said angrily, taking up the thread of conversation. "He needs solitude and moral support, not your lectures."

"I agree," Carter broke in. "Tuck, I am grateful that you took care of me. Yet, if I had known that you would chase after Robin, I would have never allowed you to accompany us in our voyage."

"Brother Tuck, you made Robin anxious. "Now Robin is emotionally unbalanced, and I would not try his temper if I were you," Will said sulkily. His last quarrel with Robin was still fresh, and Robin's distance from him increased; he only hoped they would move past one small argument soon.

Tuck merely nodded, unimpressed. "Sir Robin needs God's help. He may lose himself now."

The muscles in Archer's jaw twitched as his eyes narrowed slightly. "Mind your business, Friar Tuck. Leave Robin alone. Or I will do what Robin promised – I will throw you aboard."

"Have you, by God's holy, thought that Sir Robin might be unable to find a right balance between light and darkness?" Friar Tuck was itching to make a high-spirited speech to explain his position. "Robin of Locksley is Robin Hood! He is England's hero! He is the people's hero! He is the last great hope England has! England needs its legend, and we must help him!"

Archer cast a contemptuous glance at him. "So you want to become Robin Hood's savior, right?"

Djaq smiled; she had never liked the friar. "Well, imagination may run wild."

"Robin is not Robin Hood and even not Robin of Locksley. He is only Robin," Carter intervened. "He needs time to adjust to the world, but he must do that without our help. Then time will come, and the legend will be reborn."

"Very true words," Will agreed with a smile.

"It goes without saying." Archer nodded in Carter's direction.

"Let's give Robin privacy." Djaq hoped that the monk would stop terrorizing Robin.

That was an understatement to say how deeply Friar Tuck was in disagreement with Robin's friends. "I don't agree with you. Even if he looks into his heart, he might not find the answer."

"Then we will help Robin, and he won't have discontenting moments like the ones you gave him," Djaq fired back with sarcasm. "We will help him differently, without your annoyance and obtrusiveness."

During the next several weeks, the ship stopped shortly in Limassol and on Rhodes, then headed to Palermo. Days were getting shorter, and winds were colder: the sea was crowded with ships hurrying to their harbors before the onset of the cold northern winter. The vessel caught the right wind, moving away from the shores of Italy towards Marseilles where Robin and his friends planned to disembark. They were finally heading home to face whatever fate decreed for them.

§§§

In the study room at the Castle of Nottingham, Lady Isabella of Gisborne was accepting two important visitors – the Baron of Rotherham and the Earl of Spenser, who arrived from London to collect taxes in Nottinghamshire for Prince John. They also had certain excellent news for Isabella, who was one of them – the Black Knight loyal to John, whose bed she also warmed.

"Lady Isabella," the Baron of Rotherham began as they saw Isabella sitting in a high-back chair and looking at them. "I am happy to meet you tonight." He bowed deeply to her.

"Lady Isabella, you are more beautiful than a goddess," the Earl of Spenser greeted, bowing to her.

Isabella rose to her feet and sank into a small curtsey, only for formality. Then she sauntered across the chamber, moving towards the two men.

"My lords, I am pleased to see you, too," Isabella purred. "How was your journey?"

"It was long and arduous in this awful weather, but finally we are here," Spenser complained.

"We brought several letters from Prince John for you, my lady," Rotherham notified. "The prince misses you very much and sends you his undying love."

Isabella laughed. "And when will I be able to see the prince? When will he become king?"

"King Richard has already been taken care of," Spenser informed proudly.

"So he will be… dead soon?" Isabella questioned.

"King Richard is not dead yet, but he has already been captured somewhere near Vienna," the Baron of Rotherham enlightened. "Prince John got the news from King Philippe of France a week ago."

Spenser clapped his hands in delight. "The lion is caged now!"

"Oh, this is a historical event," Isabella replied, shaking her head. She was still unable to believe that Vaisey's plan worked and that one of the foreign rulers – Richard's enemies – had kidnapped the king.

"Well, Prince John is happy. We all are happy. Life is great," the Earl of Spenser retorted.

A dark expression manifested on Rotherham's face. "Prince John will be happy only when the king is dead. Lord Vaisey's plan was very ingenious, and it worked without a hitch, buying the Black Knights more time to get rid of King Richard and consolidate our forces within the Angevin Empire." A muscle worked in his jaw. "The Earl of Buckingham made a great deal with King Philippe of France and Duke Leopold of Austria, but the negotiations were only about King Richard's capture."

"That's why now the Black Knights need a lot of money," Spenser continued. "Prince John ordered to raise taxes again to collect the amount necessary to pay Duke Leopold for the King Richard's murder."

Isabella smiled. "And will Duke Leopold agree?"

Rotherham folded his arms over his chest. "Duke Leopold agreed not to declare officially that the king was captured for several months, but he requested a great amount of money to kill the king."

"I am sure that Prince John will eventually command us to kill King Richard with our forces," the Earl of Spenser speculated. Then he gave a low laugh. "I told Prince John that we should just go to Germany, sneak into the castle where Richard is held as a prisoner, and then assassinate him."

Isabella blinked, and then she flashed a satisfied smile. "Well, I think it will be difficult to kill King Richard if he is held in an unfamiliar castle in an unknown location."

Rotherham chortled. "You are an intelligent lady. You understand everything."

Spenser guffawed. "Yeah, King Richard is caged! He is lost to his subjects! England has no king!"

They laughed merrily as they envisioned Richard the Lionheart locked in a small cell in one of the Austrian castles. The Baron of Rotherham and the Earl of Spenser were genuinely pleased with the sensational news about the king, but Isabella was very anxious, for she instinctively felt that everything wasn't as bright as Prince John hoped. She feared to imagine the dire consequences for all of them if the king wasn't killed and managed to escape; he would probably be ransomed, but Queen Eleanor was held captive, which negated the chances for Richard to gain his freedom back.

"The news is really great," Isabella said. "As a matter of fact, my lords, the servants are setting up our dinner table. Let's go to the great hall."

"Great idea," Rotherham stated, politely offering Isabella his hand.

Spenser smiled. "Thank you for your hospitality, Lady Isabella."

Isabella took Rotherham's hand. "Let's go, my lords. I believe the dinner has already been served."

In an hour, Isabella, Spenser, and Rotherham finished their small feast and retired to their chambers.

Dawn was breaking when Lady Megan Bennet of Attenborough stood in the empty study room in the castle. She wore a mask and was wrapped in a black velvet cloak, so that she was unrecognizable unless she was stripped of her disguise. She stood near a table, looking through the papers received by Isabella that day. As her adroit fingers worked, she strained her ears and listened to the sounds outside the room, but everything around was quiet.

The study room was nearly dark. It was very hot in the chamber that was warmed by the hearth where logs were burning in a clear gold flame. Isabella liked when it was very, very warm in her house or castle since the time when Guy and she had roamed over Normandy and had slept outdoors when they had been short of money to pay for a room in an inn and there had been no convent nearby. Thus, the fire in the hearth was always burning even in nighttime. A faint glow gave an orange cast to the area near the hearth; a single candle burned on the table where Meg stood, affording just a whisper of light.

Megan continued working with Isabella's correspondence, looking through various letters, parchments, and documents. In the past three weeks, she regularly, almost every week, sneaked into the castle, got to the study room, and then checked Isabella's correspondence, hoping to discover something about the King of England and the Queen Mother. Yet, she found nothing, thinking that the prince was extremely accurate not to admit information leakages, which meant nothing good at all. She often opened Isabella's private letters from John, which were full of endearments and compliments, all of them too sweet to be true. Even in these intimate letters, there was no hint on King Richard's fate.

Megan took the rolled parchment stamped with Prince John's personal seal, smiling as she saw on the parchment the mighty words "_My beloved Isabella, mistress of my heart_," inscribed in the beginning of the letter in black calligraphic handwriting. It was Prince John's latest love letter to Isabella. It was exactly what she needed, and she planned to open the letter as usual.

Megan Bennet was able to read parchments and letters without breaking the seals. She always acted in the same fashion: she detached a pendent seal by cutting the cords or strips of a parchment, unrolled it and looked through it, and then attached new cords of the same color to the parchment, knotting them inside the seal. To attach new cords, she only needed either flame from the candle and some beeswax or a needle and stitches. It was a complicated procedure, and every case of detaching a seal was individual in its complexity, but Megan could perform such actions masterfully and quickly. She had learnt to do that a long time ago, at the Queen Mother's court, serving as a spy.

She smiled as she detached the seal and began reading the letter. As usual, this time it again contained only empty phrases about Isabella's beauty and numerous professions of the prince's enormous love for his mistress. Knowing the prince's lecherous nature, Megan laughed in her mind at the thought of how many women received the same from John.

All at once, Megan felt ground trembling beneath her legs. She stopped reading as her eyes fixed on the paragraph where Prince John mentioned that King Richard had been captured by Leopold of Austria somewhere near Vienna. Her eyes scanned the small paragraph, where the prince wrote that he was going to negotiate with Duke Leopold the terms and conditions of transfer of the king in his custody, which would allow John to isolate Richard in one of the castles he controlled and then dispose of him.

King Richard was not free and wasn't coming back to England – _the king had been captured_! She shook her head in shock, thinking that she despised Prince John for what he had done to his own brother. She was so angry that she had to stop reading, but since she had no one on whom to vent her wrath on, she could only silently curse over and over again. Beads of cold sweat broke out on her forehead as it was too hot in the room and she was too anxious too. She wanted to get out of the castle, and she decided to take the parchment with her; she needed the proof of what had happened to Richard.

Suddenly, she felt a movement beside her, and her eyes fell on a sword which a man held in his hand. The sight of the weapon made her turn her head, and she stared stupidly at the Baron of Rotherham who stood beside her, smiling insidiously.

Megan shuddered in shock. She almost fell back. Rotherham looked like an unearthly ghost of a ghost – his skin was deathly pale and his gray eyes blazed. He looked unhealthy and was very lean. He wore a black and white doublet with large golden buttons, black flat pants, and a black taffeta shirt. The black color of his attire made his face unnaturally livid, as if he were a dead man walking. His excessive paleness stemmed from his sickness in the aftermath of his lingering lung wound.

After the Baron of Rotherham had been severely wounded in Acre by Sir Edmund of Cranfield, the Earl of Middlesex, in the massacre in the Crusaders' camp, he had spent many months recovering in his estates in Rotherham. On the way back from the Holy Land, he had contracted a high fever and had nearly died in the arms of Buckingham and Durham, who had nursed him back to life. Edmund's blade had pierced his right lung, and a doctor had notified him that the injury would never heal, which shortened his lifespan. Although he physically recovered his strength, he still had terrible cough and was very thin; even if he ate a lot and his appetite was generally good, he didn't gain excessive weight.

Every muscle of Megan's body was trembling. Rotherham's sudden appearance in the study room instilled terror into her heart. Horrified, she envisaged the realities: his one hand was at his side, while in the other he carried the sword – he was armed and she was alone against him.

Megan gasped for air, her expression evolving into horror. "Lord Rotherham," she whispered.

The Baron of Rotherham made a mocking bow, laughing at her. "Lady Megan Bennet of Attenborough," he said with a waspish smile on his thin lips. "Welcome to the Castle of Nottingham, my lady."

She threw him a scornful glance. Gathering her wits, she said sarcastically, "You are a knight in a shining armor if you want to intimidate a woman with this sword."

"Holy Christ Almighty!" Rotherham swore, ignoring the vitriol she had just thrown at him. "You still have a spirit, my dear! You haven't changed since I met you last time in Poitiers." He smiled nastily. "You are arrogant and fearless as a tigress, and you are also as witty as Queen Eleanor herself."

"And you are pale and thin like a dying beggar." She was gibing at him.

Rotherham growled between clenched teeth as rage coursed through him. He put the blade to Megan's throat. "You are too sharp-witted, Lady Megan. I should cut it right now."

Megan glanced over her tormentor. He stood near her, creeping toward her with the sword scraping the skin of her throat. Terror filled her, and she shuddered in rage mingled with dread, but she steeled herself against these emotions. She had to be strong, somehow outwit him, and flee.

"You won't cut my tongue, and we both know that," she said in a plaintive voice. "And I would be ever so grateful if you please take the blade away from my throat, milord."

Rotherham smiled. "Lady Megan, you are beautiful and desirable, although you lack politeness tonight." He removed the blade and heard her sigh with relief.

She forced a wan smile. "Thank you."

The covetous hunger gleamed in his smoldering eyes. "You are the most beautiful woman among all those whom I know. You always looked beautiful on feasts and festivities when I saw you at the court." He touched her cheek. "So many men wanted to marry you, and so did I."

"Nonsense," Megan said, laughing. "The most beautiful women are Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine, as well as Lady Melisende Plantagenet, Prince John's cousin, Robin of Locksley's wife, and, of course, Princess Joan Plantagenet, Dowager Queen of Sicily and Countess of Toulouse."

"You are more to my liking," Rotherham answered. "Lady Megan, you are irresistible."

Her gaze shot to his, suddenly impenetrable. "You exaggerate, my lord."

"I know that I look rather pale," the Baron of Rotherham grudged, his expression a mixture of outrage and grief. "It is due to my injury. I spent a plenty of time in my estates in Rotherham, near the ancient and large forests, covering the greater part of the beautiful hills and valleys which lie between Sheffield and the noble seats of Wentworth and of Warncliffe Park." He ground his teeth. "But fresh air didn't help me recover completely; it only sped up my partial recovery."

"I am sorry, milord," Megan put in hastily, unnerved by his advances.

"My sweetheart, it is fine," Rotherham retorted, a smile on his lips. "I was reported that the man who wounded me is already dead. I don't have to kill him with my own hands."

She flapped the parchment in her hand. "What do you want?" she switched to another theme.

"Give me this," he croaked, and then he snatched out the parchment.

She swallowed hard, fearing that her voice was going to quaver when she spoke. "You have already taken it, although you didn't ask for my permission."

Rotherham scanned Prince John's letter Megan had opened. "Oh, Lady Megan! I have always suspected that you are Queen Mother's spy." He sniggered. "Now I have a confirmation."

"It is out of your business," she said dismissively.

He looked immensely pleased. "This is my deal because now you know our little secret!"

Megan stared at him aghast, her eyes gleaming with anger. "You committed an act of high treason, Lord Rotherham! You and your friends, the Black Knights, are traitors!"

"Lady Megan, do you realize what you led yourself to?" Rotherham asked with the same smile that sent shivers down her spine. "No, you have no idea, you stubborn, willful, headstrong, and stupid lady."

"What are you going to do to me?" she inquired with a petulant frown.

He gave her a felonious grin, a sense of victory filling him. "Lady Megan, you are a special woman." He eyed her, and his eyes sparkled with desire. "You have a passionate nature, and it drives me to a dangerous carelessness, for I want you wildly and right now."

"What… do you… want to say, my lord?" she stammered.

"Lady Megan, I love you." His voice was thick with emotion. "I love you." He looked at her, at a loss for words for a while. He let out a deep breath and then went on. "I need to marry and have heirs." He paused, giving her time to digest his words. "You refused to marry me two years ago when I proposed to you in Aquitaine. I am asking you for the last time. Will you marry me, my lady?"

Megan shook her head. "Never, Rotherham." Then she smacked his cheek with her hand.

She tried to run away, but Rotherham grabbed her forearm. "Wait, my lady. If you don't want me now, you will fall for me in some time. Or you will pay with your life, you unmarried bitch."

"Go to hell, you scoundrel," she hissed at him as she made a step back.

The Baron of Rotherham cursed. His face was set in a grim mask as he waded over to Megan and slapped her hard across the face. He bent down and grabbed her by the arms, pulling her so close to him that their faces were only inches apart.

"Were it not for your gender, I would have killed you now," Rotherham said in a menacing voice.

Her voice cracked the second she spoke. "No…"

"Yes." With an evil chuckle, he rammed his fist in her face.

Megan blinked several times as if to clear away a blur of tears. She bit her tongue, and a thin trickle of blood ran from the corner of her mouth. In a daze she saw the smiling face of her captor bending over her. She tried to give him a fight, but his second punch almost rendered her unconscious. Her head was swimming, her temples hurting, and there was a strange ringing sound in her ears. All her wits were numbed, and all that emerged was her fear and her realization that she was trapped.

Her eyes narrowed, and the fire of scorching hatred rekindled with a new strength. "Then kill me!" She challenged him, but she was afraid of death, and tears welled in her eyes.

"Look at yourself, Lady Megan: you are crying like a ninny," he said with disgust as he released her. "At least at the court, you were arrogant and brilliant, but now you are nothing. You are worthless."

They heard footsteps coming along the hall as someone hurried to find the source of alarm. Then the door flung open, and Isabella stood at the doorway. Blamire and several guards were behind her.

"What happened, Rotherham?" Isabella questioned. "Why cannot I sleep this night calmly?"

"We have an intruder," Blamire stated.

"The Queen Mother's spy," the Baron of Rotherham articulated. He laughed, roughly pushing Megan forward. "Take her to Gisborne to the underground hell."

Isabella smiled. "Very well," she uttered. "Blamire, do what Lord Rotherham suggested."

Megan's eyes widened with fear. She extricated out of Rotherham's grasp and backed away, but the baron was physically stronger. He seized hold of her hands and pushed her towards Blamire. In an instant, she felt cold steel on the skin of her wrists as Blamire shackled her, smiling at their new prisoner. Megan tried to struggle with the guards, but Blamire slammed his fist in her jaw, and her body went limp in his arms; she passed out and could no longer fight for her freedom.

Megan was taken by the guards to the underground dungeons. The Baron of Rotherham followed them step by step, while Isabella chose to stay in the castle. Blamire opened the heavy iron door, and the guards dragged the unconscious woman inside. They threw her on a damp straw mattress in the corner of the cell, and then unshackled her. They wanted to chain her to the wall, but Rotherham prohibited them from doing that; he refused to be excessively harsh with the lady whose spirit he planned to break in order to coerce her into matrimony.

The Baron of Rotherham shook his head. "No, that's more than enough."

"Yes, my lord," Blamire obeyed.

Rotherham burst into laughter. "Oh, look whose company our dear lady will have." His gaze slid to the adjacent cell. "Gisborne won't be so lonely now."

"Maybe we should place her somewhere else," Blamire suggested.

"The lady will go either to hell or to the altar with me," Rotherham said harshly. "It is not necessary."

Blamire bowed to the baron. "As you wish, my lord."

They slammed the door of the adjacent cell behind them, Guy of Gisborne scrambled to his feet from his mattress. He had lain motionless and speechless while they had talked in order not to attract attention to him; he had overheard the strange exchange between the Baron of Rotherham and Blamire; he had recognized Rotherham's voice as soon as the man had uttered a first word. He figured out that something uncommon had happened, but he had ceased to have any interaction with the world a while ago, and there were no dreams and life for him beyond the darkness of his cell.

Guy shuffled towards the grating that separated his cell from the adjacent one. He peered into the darkness, trying to understand whom Rotherham and Blamire had just apprehended. Guy was puzzled when he heard that the prisoner was a female, for if Rotherham ordered to lock a high-born lady in the underground hell, then it meant that she had committed something grave against Isabella, one of the Black Knights, or probably even Prince John.

He stood near the grating, looking into the darkness. He could hear only the sound of drops of water dripping from the ceiling and hitting the stone floor. He could see only the outlines of a female figure under her cloak, for it was too dark in the dungeons and she lay on her mattress far from him. He concluded that she was unconscious, for she didn't move and speak, which meant that she had been knocked out before being incarcerated.

Guy watched the unconscious lady for a long time. As minutes slipped by, he realized that the lady had been unconscious and would probably not wake for hours. "Poor girl," he said to himself.

As it was useless to stand there, Guy returned to his straw mattress and lay there, staring up, at the ceiling, and thinking of the mysterious young woman. Someone else – an innocent youth – was suffering at the hands of the Black Knights, and it made Guy's blood boil in anger. But there was an egoistic feeling of relief, too: at least now he wasn't alone in the underground hell.

In the last weeks, Guy had been feverish and had thought that he had been dying. While his fever had ravaged his body, he hadn't eaten at all and had lost much weight. Of course, he hadn't been tortured again, for Blamire had damaged him more than enough immediately after his arrest. Once Isabella had come to the dungeons to look at her broken and sick brother, his back red and bloody, each and every patch of the skin on his back covered with numerous cuts, welts, and burns.

In delirium, Guy hadn't recognized where he was and had muttered something unclear about Marian, Allan, Robin, and King Richard. He had also lamented something about the deaths of his parents in the fire, always cursing King Henry and Roger of Gisborne, which had enraged Isabella, for she held the memory of her father sacred. At times, in the brief moments of his consciousness, the reason seeped back into his fevered brain, and Guy had remembered that he had been arrested by Prince John's guards. In such moments, Guy had been caught in a whimsical mesh of unreality bordered by the real life, and Guy had wondered whether he had lost his mind or whether he had already died.

When he had been sick, Guy had lain only on his back, chained and shackled. His fever had broken in about three weeks after the first barbaric torture, but for some time he had been so weak that he couldn't move even a hand and couldn't speak. Doctor Blight had told him that he had been close to death for more than a month. However, his sickness saved him from more pain and further humiliation and degradation which he would have been subject to if he had been put to the rack again.

His recovery was slow and painful, but with the help of Blight's herbs and therapy Guy was able to walk around his cell in two weeks after awakening. His recovery was still incomplete and caused him great emotional instability as the realization of what his own sister was capable of doing to him was pressing on him with a strong pain and a mortifying feeling of his guilt as he thought back to the events of the distant past, mentally acknowledging his role in the creation of the monster Isabella had become.

As soon as he could move, Guy examined his own body. He couldn't see his back, but he supposed that he had scars there, and some of the cuts and welts were still raw. Now Guy had a long and ugly scar on his left side, which he had obtained with during his first attempt to escape. As he saw it, Guy cringed at the sight of his puckered flesh surrounded by his otherwise flawless skin, exactly in the same place where he had stabbed Robin in the fateful Saracen attack. Guy's scar mirrored Robin's old scar, and that made him feel closer to Robin. Since he had found this scar, Guy often traced it with his fingers, remembering Robin and repenting of having stabbed him from the back with the curved dagger that he had injured Marian – or the Nightwatchman – with before their first failed wedding.

When the sheriff's guards had once captured Robin and Guy had flogged the bold outlaw brutally and almost to a state of being half dead, Guy had noticed a similar scar on Robin's left side. At that time, Guy had been pleased that the handsome and invincible Robin Hood had at least one scar from his blade. Yet, he had cringed at the sight of the wicked scar cleaving Robin's flesh, for it had contrasted starkly with the other parts of Hood's lithe body. It had been quite childish, but Guy had vaunted over Robin, satisfied that he had managed to give his sworn foe such a visible imperfection.

God had granted him almost the same scar, and Guy reckoned that it was a sort of retribution for what he had done to Robin. After he himself had been wounded in the same area by one of his former loyal men, Guy realized how difficult Robin's recovery should have been, although Hood's wound was surely much more dangerous, almost a fatal one, for the blade hadn't pierced his heart only thanks to sheer luck and the fact that Robin had moved his arm while shooting a moment before being stabbed by Guy.

Gisborne had been informed that his marriage to Marian had been annulled by the Archbishop of Canterbury at Prince John's request on the grounds of her pre-contract with the Earl of Buckingham. At first, he hadn't believed Isabella, but she had explained all details to him, and he had pieced the story together only with a negligible amount of effort. The loss of Marian was another loss in his life, one of some many losses he had already sustained. In the freshness of his new loss, his wretched existence seemed worse than death! Guy had failed to protect Marian, had failed to save Robin, and had failed even to escape from his prison. Why was God laughing at him? Why was he so miserable?

Guy recalled the Earl of Buckingham's strange interest in his marriage, which the man had showed during their conversation in the sheriff's study room. On that evening, Buckingham had entered the chamber through the secret door in the study room, and they had talked about the earl's errand to align Prince John with more Norman and Poitevin nobles. Although it had happened more than a year ago, Guy still remembered that Buckingham had been displeased with the news about Marian's marriage to him. Now Guy understood why the earl had felt that way.

Isabella told Guy that Buckingham had fallen in love with Marian when he had seen her in the castle. The earl wished to marry her, and Prince John had nothing against pleasing his grand favorite.

The news about Vaisey's involvement into the business with Marian's betrothal to Buckingham puzzled Guy. When the Earl of Buckingham had returned to England from the continent, he had been outraged that Guy had married Marian. Yet, he hadn't been allowed to protest against Guy's marriage because Vaisey had asked the Prince to prevent Buckingham from appealing to the church to have the marriage declared null and void. But Buckingham had kept the betrothal agreement and had lied in wait for Guy's fall from the sheriff's good graces. After Guy's betrayal in Acre, Vaisey had backed down from supporting a sham of Guy's marriage, and then Prince John had decided to remunerate the Earl of Buckingham with Marian's hand in a marriage.

Guy didn't wish Marian to marry the Earl of Buckingham. Despite the bitterness of his wounded spirit, he would have reconciled with his loss if Marian had left him to be alone or if she had wanted to be with Robin of Locksley, but he couldn't accept that she would be forced to marry Buckingham. Surprisingly, the thought of Marian and Robin's possible marriage didn't cause him as strong pain as it had caused him before; he was astonished with the realization, but it also brought a strange relief to him.

Guy wanted Robin Hood to be alive and save King Richard and Marian. He regretted that Robin Hood was dead. "Robin, why did you need to die in Acre? You would have saved Marian now!" Guy thought as he lay in the darkness. "I have lost everything, except for my goddamned life."

He considered himself the most foolish criminal in the annals of crime. He believed that power would bring him happiness and appeasement, but it didn't happen and would never happen now. Now Guy wished to die, already feeling half dead. He envied Robin of Locksley who had died a heroic death in the Holy Land, saving King Richard's life from the sheriff. He would have gladly swapped places with Robin! He would have given his life for King Richard and Robin Hood with pleasure and eagerness if only it had meant that he would avoid spending another day in the dungeons and that he would be spared from dying an ignominious death at his sister's order.

For the first time in his life, Guy of Gisborne felt as if he were nothing and nobody. He was a less intelligent, less clever, less cunning, less conniving, less desperate, and less crafty criminal than Sheriff Vaisey had ever been. At least, Vaisey was an imposing and outstanding criminal, whose wicked deals required tremendous audacity and had exorbitant sadistic grandeur. The sheriff was regarded by everyone with a mixture of terror and disgust, but never with pity. But Guy became a truly miserable and pitiful creature! In contrast to Guy, the sheriff had died at his former henchman's blade and had gone straight to hell, and his death was better than the one Guy would have.

At first, Guy had hoped that Allan, Little John, and Much would save him, but over time he had stopped hoping. He didn't doubt that Much and Little John were more than pleased never to see him again. He wanted to believe that Allan would launch a rescue attempt, for his former right-hand man seemed to be his friend, but over time his hopes vanished. Even if the outlaws checked the dungeons, they wouldn't find him because he was in the underground prison, not in usual dungeons. Guy hoped that King Richard would return and Prince John would lose power, which would mean Isabella's removal from her position; but it didn't happen, and his sister continued coming to him to gloat.

There was no hope left for Guy, and presently he was unable to ward off a feeling of complete despair, assaulting him in waves day and night and passing through his body like the heat from the flames of inferno. He thought that he had been an idiot to disregard the seriousness of the king's warning not to return to Nottingham before Richard himself stepped on the English soil. Yet, it was already too late to regret, lament, and complain. All that was left to Guy was darkness, loneliness, and emptiness; he also had much time to wallow in self-pity and self-loathing.

He confessed to himself that he was afraid of death and of afterlife, fearful that he would go to hell to pay for the crimes he had committed on earth. He wasted his life on his meaningless quest for power and wealth, and his life was utterly misspent. In afterlife, he wouldn't meet Robin of Locksley, his mother Ghislane, and probably even Roger of Gisborne, if the man was in Heaven after all his dastardly deeds. He was doomed to suffer eternal damnation. Such were Guy's thoughts in those dark hours.

For the first time since his boyhood, Guy began to think of Jesus Christ and church. It was pure and desperate madness to think of God after he had committed so many heinous crimes. But there was no other choice – he could appeal only to God for forgiveness of his sins and for a chance to atone. Guy prayed much harder than he had prayed in childhood, pleading with God to give him a chance for salvation so as he could help Marian and his friends. He beseeched to let King Richard return and stop his vile brother. He prayed that there was still some chance for him to become a better man.

Now Guy again turned to the Lord. He rose from his mattress and sank to his knees. "Show me your way, oh Lord, and grant me your wisdom to see what I never saw before," he prayed fervently.

Days flowed into nights that in the prison seemed endless and entirely black, as if days had been abolished after Guy's capture. In nighttime, Guy prayed more fervently, with more devotion to God. He prayed for many hours, watching an achingly slow progress of passing time, discerning that a night was over only because of the bleak light that penetrated his cell from the small window above his mattress. He often stood on his knees and prayed until his legs were numb.

Guy crossed himself. "Lord, grant me a chance to atone for what I did to others, when I lived in sin and was obtuse or blind to see that I was ruining my own life with my greed, lust for power, and thirst for revenge. Help me rescue Marian and this innocent woman whom they took here." He unselfishly wanted to save innocent lives, even Megan's life, although he didn't know her. "I swear that if I survive, I will become a better man." He just hoped that God really existed and could hear him.

* * *

><p><em>I hope you truly enjoyed this chapter and the plot.<em>

_The last few chapters were mostly about Guy and the outlaws, and I neglected Robin Hood a little bit. As I promised to several readers, this chapter is mostly about Robin. I missed Robin terribly, for Robin is my favourite character, although I am a Guy fan too (I like Guy mostly for his complexity). _

_Robin is emotionally fragile, and he hasn't recovered physically yet. But now Robin is back in action, and he is heading home, only to find out that King Richard disappeared on the way from Acre, Marian was taken prisoner by Prince John, Guy was arrested, and the outlaws went on separate paths. Robin has a hard work to do in England that is in anarchy during the king's absence. _

_I am propelling Robin's conflict of loyalties between his loyalty to King Richard, to his women he loves (Marian and Melisende, now he is torn between them), and to his people, but you surely understand that in this story Robin cannot abandon the king, his brother and friend, so you can already predict the resolution of this conflict in Robin's life. Will Robin cut the mustard upon his return and save the king? Maybe. You need to be patient, for you will have the answer only in part 3 "Fight for Peace"._

_I started developing Robin's disillusionment arc after his awakening in Jerusalem, but so far you didn't have a chance to see the deep and profound effect of death on Robin. In this chapter, you finally see what I meant: now Robin is a different man – he is a disillusioned and disappointed idealist who is also very confused with his feelings. On the show, Robin is as an idealist who believes that he fights for universal peace and absolute justice – for the noble things that, however, don't exist in reality. But death destroyed Robin's old world and changed his perception of life – the old Robin Hood is dead, and you will see more profound changes in him soon._

_Megan is in a great trouble as she was captured by the Baron of Rotherham in Isabella's study room, but at least now she is aware of King Richard's capture in Austria. In one of the previous chapters, Megan and her father talked about Rotherham whom she rejected, and now the vile man has a chance to pay her back for that rejection. And Megan is in the underground dungeons, together with Guy! _

_I am continuing to develop Guy's redemption arc, and I hope that you see that Guy is a changed man, too, in many ways. The depth of Guy's repentance is already deep, and I personally think that the changes I am portraying in Guy come across as natural and organically flowing from his storyline. Guy is suffering, like Robin suffered when he lay dying in fever after Vaisey had stabbed him. Guy's current sufferings will cleanse him and make him stronger; they are an essential part of his redemption._

_Friar Tuck won't be featured prominently in the storyline. It might be discourteous of me to say I have never liked Tuck in the series. I wasn't fond of his plan to have Much, Little John, and Allan captured only because he wanted to help Robin become his normal self again. And Tuck cared too much about the legend of England. My Tuck is genuinely worried about Robin as the man, and will be a little different: he and Robin will become friends over time, and Tuck will help Robin to make peace with himself, understanding that for Robin there is no balance between his loyalties._

**_Reviews are always appreciated, including well-grounded criticism._**

_If you find any typos and/or mistakes here, please let me know about them in a private message. _

_Thank you for reading this chapter. Have a lovely weekend._

_Yours faithfully, Penelope Clemence_


	17. Chapter 16 Innocents in the Dungeons

**Chapter 16**

**Innocents in the Dungeons**

There was a deathlike, ominous silence in the underground dungeons, in which Guy was totally engrossed in contemplating his past mistakes. The night lasted two hours longer, and then a cold light began to creep through the small window located near the ceiling, at the surface level.

Guy lifted himself into a sitting position on his mattress and examined his cell; then he fixed his eyes on the adjoining cell. Suddenly, he distinguished the outlines of a slender female in the semidarkness: she stood near the wall there, looking up at the window, and her beautiful and intelligent face revealed sad astonishment as her eyes took in her surroundings; she turned her gaze as she remarked a shadow that moved behind the grating that separated two cells.

Megan gasped as her eyes locked with Guy's. She rushed to the opposite wall of her cell, but then she stopped, looking at the prisoner with attention and instinctively feeling that she had already seen him a while ago. She leaned against the wall, her heart in her throat as her mind drifted back to the day when she had narrowly escaped arrest by Prince John's guards. The realization came as a very great shock to her: the unknown prisoner was the man who had saved her life from a thief months ago.

"My God! You!" Megan gave an exclamation of surprise.

Megan was bewildered to see what had happened to the appearance of the handsome traveler whose bravery had made her heart beat faster on that fateful day. When she had met Guy for the first time, he had looked unkempt and weary, but now he seemed so drastically different. She gazed in amazement at the man with long, thick, black hair and a long, black beard, thinking that he looked like a man who didn't use a barber's services for at least half a year.

There were dramatic changes in Guy due to malnutrition. He had lost much weight, and his face was oval and lengthened. His smirking mouth assumed the firm and marked lines which betokened deep-seated pain and sorrow in him. His eyes were full of deep melancholy and anxious contemplation. His skin was very pale, and his features resembled aristocratic handsomeness of the Normans. There was an imprint of wretchedness and abjectedness on Guy, and it didn't slip Megan's notice.

Guy made a ceremonious bow. "Good morning, my lady," he greeted her in a deep, hollow voice.

"Good morning, sire."

He smirked. "Do I look different?" He guessed where her train of thought was going.

Megan gave a slight nod. "Yes."

"I am sorry if my looks disappoint you."

She blinked, then glanced away. "I am sorry for my reaction. You don't look awful."

"Ah!" Guy exclaimed, as if he were deeply affected. "Spare me your empty compliments, my lady."

Surprised, Megan turned her gaze at him, and their gazes locked, but she hurriedly looked away again, and his eyes drifted to the window. The sun had already risen, but the light was so faint in the dungeons that Megan didn't perceive the pallor that spread over Guy's visage, and she couldn't notice the nervous heaving of his chest and his shoulders. A breathless silence prevailed, during which they weren't looking at each other.

"You have recognized me, haven't you?" Megan spoke at last in a loud, clear voice.

"Silence!" Guy almost hissed as he turned to her. He knew the delicate sense of hearing in the dungeons. "For Heaven's sake, don't speak so loudly! Otherwise guards will come here!"

"Oh, I understand," she said in a much quieter voice.

"Now tell me what you are doing here," he continued straightforwardly. "Didn't your adventure with a thief teach you that willfulness and desperation might kill you?"

Megan scowled at him. "It is not your deal."

He chuckled. "Oh, of course. I am sorry that I have forgotten how willful and stubborn you can be."

"You are a nasty man," she snapped. Then she walked away.

Guy returned to his own mattress and sat down there. Megan didn't speak to him for at least an hour, sitting on her straw mattress in the corner of her own cell, with her legs crossed under her in the Eastern fashion. Although she wasn't looking at him, Guy watched her from the corner of his eye, with sheer amazement that she had become his companion in the underground hell.

Soon, curious to learn more about each other, Guy and Megan returned to the grating. For a moment, they were quiet, scrutinizing one another.

"Who are you? Why did they arrest you?" he asked, his heart thundering in his chest.

She cast a prying glance at him. "And who are you?"

"I think that you have heard about me a lot in Nottingham," he replied, the corners of his lips quirking in a ghost of a smile. "I am Sir Guy Fitzcorbet of Gisborne."

Megan gasped. Tales about Guy's life and his hellish crimes haunted her for so long, and she had been very curious and eager to see the black-hearted monster with her own eyes. And now she was so close to the very man, whose dark personality had awakened her interest when she had heard the first outrageous tale of Guy and his cruelty. She could feel the frantic beat of her own heart, and she took a deep, steadying breath. Emotions tumbled through her core at the speed of velocity – disbelief, amazement, bewilderment, fear, curiosity, thrill, and excitement.

She smiled to herself, trying to hold back a laugh of disbelief. "I cannot believe that the dark demon of Nottingham became my savior."

He marveled at the turn of events and involuntarily smiled back. "It appears so."

"Well, I have never expected to be saved by Sir Guy of Gisborne of all the people in Nottingham."

"I am no longer Sir Guy. I was stripped of all my titles and lands by Prince John." He sighed heavily. "I am just a miserable prisoner accused of the murder I didn't commit."

Megan flashed a wan smile. "I know that you are not as awful as they say of you."

He frowned, surprised; he looked away. "What do you mean?"

She shrugged elegantly. "I have heard a lot about you, Sir Guy, but our common friend warned me not to believe that you were an irredeemable vile man." She laughed at his confused expression. "Her words were that you aren't as bad as people think of you, that you were misguided, and that you changed and finally broke from the sheriff by killing him."

Guy glanced back at her, as if to seek a hidden meaning in her words. "Who are you, my lady? Who is this enigmatic friend we have in common?"

"Amicia," she whispered. "Does this name tell you something?"

His eyes widened. "You know Amicia?"

She chuckled. "Oh, I know her very well. I grew up at the court in Poitou, and Amicia has been my friend since my childhood, despite the fact that she is ten years older than me."

He eyed her solemnly. "What is your name?"

"I am Lady Megan Bennet of Attenborough. In spite of being very young, I am the Queen Mother's confident," she replied proudly, her head up, her expression serious and haughty.

Guy's lips arched in an ironic smile. "I should have guessed that you are likely to be the famous Lady Megan Bennet, who rejected a legion of rich and powerful suitors and who managed to remain one of the very few maids at the court in Aquitaine."

Megan felt heat rushing up to her face. "How did you manage to learn this about me?" Bending her head, she busied herself with clutching the collar of her cloak nervously. "I wasn't very well-known in England because I lived in Aquitaine for years. Even after my father had moved back to Nottingham, I continued serving in Queen Eleanor's household. I visited my father only thrice during the past five years; he himself usually came to Aquitaine."

"I have heard many rumors about you at Prince John's court."

Her head shot up, and she stared at him, her deep blue eyes blazing with fire. "For your information, I hate Prince John's court. If I stayed there even for a month, he would have noticed me and would have been impassioned to put me in his bed, and I would have rejected his advances bluntly." She paused and breathed in deeply; she was clearly flustered. "Then the prince would have become my enemy."

"Having Prince John as an enemy is not a good prospect for a young lady," Guy opined glumly.

"But now I am Prince John's enemy!"

Guy kept quiet for a while. "Lady Megan, did Prince John order the Baron of Rotherham to put you here? What did you commit against the prince?"

Megan glanced straight into Guy's eyes, feeling lost in the steel blue depths and in the playful allure of his wretchedness. He was so handsome despite the fact that he was unkempt and dirty! She wished she didn't feel that way about him, but at the same time she did. Guy was the first man who caused her heart to hammer so much harder in her chest and her stomach to erupt in frenzied butterflies. She wished she could just see him as a low criminal, but she couldn't.

"I learnt what they did to King Richard," she informed him. She confessed to him unexpectedly to herself. For whatever reason, she didn't feel herself in danger in his presence.

Guy looked abashed; alarm and fear crept into his heart. "Did they… kill… the king?" he stammered.

"No, they didn't." She didn't intend to tell him more. "But they will try."

He scowled. "The Black Knights won't stop until they succeed."

Giving Guy a mutinous look, Megan scoffed unpleasantly. "The only consolation is that the king is in a relative safety, and they won't be able to send assassins to kill him. He is safe at least for a while."

Guy visibly relaxed. The idea of Richard's death was painful. He didn't want his newly discovered half-brother, who had pardoned him, to be murdered by his younger brother just out of greed and ambitions for kingship. "Is the king coming home soon?" he inquired hopefully.

Megan's expression grew shuttered. "I have to crush your hopes, Sir Guy." She emitted a heavy sigh. "King Richard is not returning in the nearest future, but he is alive." Her voice took a lower octave. She sighed bitterly and spoke. "He was taken captive by Prince John's international allies. It seems that it was Sheriff Vaisey's plan, and the Earl of Buckingham moulded it into reality."

Silence stretched on as they directed unblinking and solemn stares at each other.

He cursed under his breath; he clenched his fists as rage coursed through him. "It seems that Vaisey did everything – possible and impossible – to dispose of the king after he failed in the Holy Land."

She looked unconvinced in the trueness of his words. "You… regret that the king lost his freedom?"

Guy dropped his eyes to the floor. "Ah, I should have known that you are aware of the foul history of my past." He sighed deeply and lifted his eyes to look at her, a look of pained shame plastered across his face. "I am a former Black Knight."

She smirked noxiously. "I know that you tried to kill King Richard in Acre two and a half years ago and that you wounded Sir Robin of Locksley in the process. I have heard a lot about that Saracen attack from the Queen Mother. I also know that you were in Acre with Lord Vaisey and attempted to kill the king for the second time, but you stopped near the very line."

His skin prickled with shame, and he dared not meet her accusing eyes, choosing to avert his gaze. "Thank you for reminding me that I am _the king's would-be assassin_."

Her gaze was accusing. "You did despicable and dastardly deeds, Gisborne."

Guy glanced at her askance. "In the name of Heaven, Lady Megan, please stop accusing me of all the sins and wrongdoings I have committed in my life."

Exhausted morally and physically, Guy spun around and strode away from the bars. He stopped near the wall and slumped to the stone floor, squeezing his eyes shut. Megan followed his example and landed on the floor, near the bars; for an odd reason, she didn't want to return to the distant part of her own cell, for she couldn't be alone; not now, not with this growing fear inside of her.

A long, oppressive silence hung over them, broken only by the shuffling of Guy's feet on the floor as he stood up and walked the short distance across his cell; then he settled on the floor again.

Megan sat against the wall. "I am cold. I am thirsty."

Guy cringed, irritated with her complaints. "Save your breath and stop whining, Lady Megan!" he barked in a commanding tone. "You are so annoying, aren't you? No wonder Rotherham and Isabella want you dead." He relapsed into silence for a while. "What did you do to them?"

She was frustrated that their friendly interlude when they had discussed the king's capture was short-lived. Affronted and humiliated by his hurtful tirade, she vented her anger towards him. "You have no right to talk to me in this way, Gisborne! You should be ashamed of yourself: you attempted to assassinate King Richard and harmed and killed so many innocent people!"

He looked up at the ceiling, huffing in irritation. "Oh, God, give me strength to tolerate this whining! It is almost worth dying if I might be spared your endless chatter."

Megan laughed suddenly, a mocking noise. "Oh, come on, Guy of Gisborne. You are here, and I am here too. What else are we going to do?" She laughed again. "We can only talk."

At the sound of her surprisingly amicable voice, Guy finally broke away from staring at the ceiling and gazed back at her. She was far from him, and he couldn't see her well in the dim light. "What did you do to the Baron of Rotherham?" he repeated the question he had already asked her.

"Are you inquisitive by nature?"

Guy lurched to his feet and slowly walked to the grating, his gait slightly lopsided. He sat down on the floor, crossing his legs. "When they dragged you here, you were unconscious. Rotherham said that you would either die in prison or meet him at the altar."

A choked sound came from Megan, and Guy looked over to find her fighting the urge to laugh.

"I rejected Rotherham's proposal more than a year ago," Megan enlightened. "When he… detained me, he gave me two choices – either I marry him or die."

He sneered. "And you were foolish enough to fling aside his offer, Lady Megan? It was surely quite a charitable thought from Rotherham's side," he said in an ironical tone.

Megan shot Guy a resentful glance. "Of course, you are unable to understand such simple things: it is better to die than to marry a repulsive creature of darkness like Rotherham," she snapped wrathfully. "It is very low to coerce a lady into betrothal or marriage when she barely tolerates her suitor. And should the whole world applaud Rotherham for trying to satisfy his selfish desires to have me by any means?"

Guy groaned in despair and pressed his hands to his temples for a brief moment. He remembered how he had coerced Marian into their first engagement when she hadn't been as confused with her feelings as she had started feeling later, and guilt grasped his heart in a painful hold. If he hadn't tried to woo and court Marian at that time, she would have reconciled with Robin, and then her confusion wouldn't have caused so much pain to Robin and to him. Maybe, just maybe, Robin wouldn't have gone to the Holy Land again and would have been alive now. But pondering over such what-if scenarios was a pure waste of time because he couldn't change anything – it was already too late.

"Your words remind me of many mistakes," he said, struggling to keep his voice steady.

Her face twisted in an apologetic expression. "I am sorry."

"Don't be. I don't deserve to be pitied by anyone, most of all by you," he responded harshly.

They spent many minutes in a lethally pressing silence, sitting near the grating, reflecting on their situations. Guy didn't look at Megan, but he felt her eyes at himself, wondering what she was thinking of him and whether she had already begun to despise him.

Guy turned his gaze at Megan and said at last, "You have been watching me the whole time?"

"Yes," she said with a yawn.

"What do you want, Lady Megan?" His voice sounded annoyed.

"I am truly interested in you," she gave an honest reply. The little thrill that coursed through her veins sent the blood right to her head. "People say that you are a monster, that you killed many innocents, that you murdered their beloved Robin Hood, and that you even eat children on breakfast, lunch, and supper." She laughed jovially. "There are so many rumors about you."

Frustration lit his features. "I killed many innocent people, but I didn't kill Robin Hood."

She grinned widely. "I have already guessed that half of these tales are exaggerated or are stupid gossip of those people who have nothing to do but gossip again and again."

"And you don't gossip, do you?"

Her eyes flashing with pleasure that they were back to outgiving disposition again, she purred, "I hate gossip, Sir Guy! And I know that you didn't kill Sir Robin of Locksley."

Guy let out a faint smile; he understood that Amicia had probably told Megan the truth about Robin's death. "I didn't kill Robin," he avouched. His expression transformed into grief, and he dug his nails into his palms until his skin bled. "I tried to save him in the courtyard, but I was too far from him, and I myself was wounded." He gritted his teeth. "The sheriff accidentally killed Robin when he lunged at King Richard and Robin unexpectedly jumped between the blade and the king."

"Amicia told me about Sir Robin's death." Her voice turned breathy and low.

He lowered his head, and his heart skipped a beat and then began to pound vehemently in fear, as though he had been back in Imuiz, witnessing Robin's demise. "I killed Vaisey for King Richard, for England, for Robin, for myself, and for everyone whose life he took or tried to take." There was a hellishly hateful light in his eyes and a sinister note of malice in his voice, which couldn't really be called human as every thought of the sheriff sent him to a hateful oblivion.

"I know that King Richard pardoned you, but you certainly had a funny way of showing your loyalty to our liege," Megan noted tartly, although her heart felt as if it would slam right out of her chest. "Why did you kill the sheriff instead of leaving his fate to one of Sir Robin's friends or to King Richard himself?" She sighed. "I think that it was a suicidal mission to kill Vaisey on the day when Prince John was in Nottingham, surrounded by at least five hundred men from the elite guard."

Guy shuddered in rage, and his calmness vanished. "You know nothing, Lady Megan!" he cried out angrily. "I had to kill Vaisey! He deserved to die at my hand!"

She favored him with a debonair smile. "Well, listen, Guy of Gisborne. My words will restore you to life." She felt the blood mounting to her brow; there was no doubt that Guy's proximity excited her beyond measure, and she pitied him too, wishing to bring some light into his life. "I don't accuse you of murdering Sheriff Vaisey. On the contrary, I am impressed with your actions, for you ripped the evil out." She sighed. "I just think that the timing of killing him was chosen incorrectly."

"You are most kind, my lady." A murky smile curled his lips.

Megan looked at Guy attentively, her heart beating faster as sympathy to him filled every fibre of her heart. He was so lonesome and pitiful that she felt his pain as her own. But she wouldn't tell him of her sensations and feelings, for she would have been at the very height of stupidity then!

"Sir Guy, stop calling me Lady Megan," she requested.

His gaze turned somewhat astounded. "Then stop calling me Sir Guy or Gisborne."

She gave him a satisfied smile. "Very well, Guy."

Guy smiled to himself. The first moment of perplexity and bewilderment had passed, and now he was even happy that he had a companion after days of despair, misery, and loneliness. Then colossal grief assaulted him at the thought that another innocent soul – Megan – would die together with him, and he was helpless to save her. He didn't care that he would die in the underground hell, but his inability to save Megan and Marian filled him with impotent anger at himself. His agonized sufferings were his retribution for his old crimes, but Megan didn't deserve to have such a gruesome and unfair end.

§§§

Time was passing very slowly, and every hour pressed on Guy and Megan with leaden weight. They still didn't talk, each of them brooding over the dire situation they had found themselves in. Two guards came to their cell only once to give them two flasks of water and two loaves of bread. Megan and Guy ate silently and didn't utter a word, as if they couldn't speak. Soon they were already enveloped in gloomy darkness, and then midnight struck sadly.

By the middle of her first night in the underground prison, Megan became very anxious. She strained her ears and tried to hear every sound around her. The absolute stillness augmented the acuteness of her hearing, and she moved at the slightest sound, looking at the door. Several times, she rose to her feet and hastened to the door, but she was doomed to disappointment as every sound died away, and she returned to her straw mattress, grumbling and cursing Prince John and the Black Knights.

Soon Megan sank into despair and began to weep silently and bitterly. In the first delirium of despair, she longed to run to the door and knock at it until someone, even a usual guard, came. She hoped that the Baron of Rotherham would probably come to liberate her and force her into marriage; she thought that if her accursed worshipper proposed to her again, she would feign her agreement, pretending that she wanted to marry him with the aim to run away later and find King Richard's loyal men. Lying on her back and staring at the ceiling, Megan dwelled on her infelicities once again.

Megan heard someone's footsteps in the corridor, which plucked her out of her musings. Someone turned the key in the lock, the bolts creaked, and the heavy iron door flung open. Then a flood of bleak light from two torches dissolved the darkness, and Megan saw Isabella of Gisborne who entered her cell, casting a brief look in the direction of Guy's cell and then focusing her eyes at Megan.

"Stay in the corridor. I will talk to her alone," Isabella instructed the two guards who were behind her. Holding a torch in her right hand, she advanced forward and stopped near Megan's mattress. "Lady Megan Bennet, are you asleep?"

Megan lifted her eyes at the newcomer. "Lady Isabella, why are you here?"

"I have come to help you. I want to release you from here," Isabella replied sincerely, in an urgent voice. She pitied Megan, for she had heard about Hugh Bennet's daughter at the court, and she thought that they had something in common – their aspiration to be independent and their deep loathing for men.

Megan leapt to her feet and arranged her skirts around her. "Lady Isabella, I am very sorry to say this, but I am confused," she said softly. "You commanded your captain of the guards to take me here after Lord Rotherham had caught me. And now you say you are here to save me."

"You don't believe me, Lady Megan." It was not a question but an assertion.

Megan sighed. "Why do you commit something evil and then insist on your desire to save me?"

Isabella chuckled. "You might not believe me that I am a friend of yours, but I can assure you that I want to help you, and that's why I am here at the moment."

"Thank goodness that it is so." Megan breathed a sigh of relief, her spirits rising ever so slightly.

Guy didn't sleep and was listening to the two women's conversation. He silently wondered why Isabella had decided to help the girl. His nails dug in the skin of his palms, his heart pounding harder in an ever-growing fear, and he cursed in his mind his inability to fight off his nervousness. His intuition suggested that Isabella's help was not a solution to the global problem – King Richard's release from captivity, even if he thought, for some unexplainable reason, that his sister's offer might have been sincere.

Isabella smiled. "Let's go."

Megan still looked distrustful. "Are you really releasing me?"

Isabella sniffed as the other woman's stubbornness and doubts were grating on her nerves. "I must explain something to you," she said in a patient and controlled voice. "I am going to take you to Lord Rotherham. He is ready to marry you even tomorrow."

"So you think that I should exchange one cell for another," Megan concluded.

"I am offering you freedom," Isabella parried.

"I loathe Lord Rotherham. I cannot marry him," Megan stated firmly, raising her chin rebelliously.

"Don't be a fool, Lady Megan. You have to survive." Isabella shook her head in disbelief that Megan could reject her gracious offer. "You have gotten yourself into terrible mess, and it is only your fault. There is no other way of helping you, not after what you learnt."

Megan turned her head, and in the torchlight, she saw Guy's silhouette in the adjacent cell. "Lady Isabella, there is something else," she said, her gaze oscillating anxiously between Gisborne's dim form and Isabella's face. "And if I accept your offer, will you release Sir Guy of Gisborne, too?"

Isabella looked at Megan as though she had gone mad. "What? Are you insane? He is our enemy."

"But... he is your brother," Megan commented in a voice that was as low as a lament would have been, her eyes shuttling back and forth and finally fixing on the nearby cell. She thought that she noticed the slight twitching of Guy's shoulders even despite the lack of light; or maybe she just imagined that.

Megan was right, for Gisborne felt every muscle in his maltreated body tremble in excitement and joy, for he was deeply touched and stunned, nearly to the brink of unconsciousness, by Megan's boldness and her compassion. He didn't anticipate that she would dare ask Isabella this question, which sealed her own fate with the highest probability.

Isabella's face contorted in chagrin, and she clenched her jaw. She allowed a long pause to stretch between them. "You see, Lady Megan? Do you see how they manipulate us?" she addressed the younger woman in a waspish voice at last, her eyes filling with anger, her lips setting in a tight line. "A few hours in this cell with a cold-hearted killer and even you, the Queen Mother's lovely spy, have lost your wits. That's the poison of men, Megan." She dropped the official etiquette and spoke in a personal manner. "None of them can be trusted. They all are utter fools, inveterate womanizers, or black-hearted villains, or at least egotistical bastards who are interested only in themselves and their needs. They are not worth our compassion."

Megan arched a brow. "And you still want me to marry Lord Rotherham, Isabella?" She, too, dropped the etiquette, starting to refer to the sheriff in an unofficial manner.

Isabella clenched the fist of her left hand, and the torch trembled in her right hand. She was losing patience and interest in helping the other woman. "I am offering you a chance to survive. If there was any other chance to save your life, I would have done that, but I cannot do endanger my own life too."

"Ah, I see." Megan sighed.

Isabella's cold voice came across quickly, "You know why I cannot do anything else."

Megan nodded. "I do know."

"You must marry Lord Rotherham and try to make the best out of this marriage," Isabella edified. "After all, there are worse beasts than Rotherham." She scoffed. "And he has the lingering injury of his lungs, so he will die in a few years, and you will be free from him, Megan."

Guy was pleased that there wasn't enough light in the dungeons, which precluded his sister from seeing his face. He was beginning to turn nearly purple as waves of rage surged through him over and over again, and his face was growing flaming hot. He loathed Isabella for making this offer as much as Megan obviously did. Besides, he was shocked with the sensational news about Rotherham's poor health, and he immediately remembered Vaisey's words that the baron had been severely wounded and had almost died on the way back from Acre after organizing the massacre in the Crusaders' camp.

"Don't you pity the Baron of Rotherham?" Megan asked out of mere curiosity.

Isabella let out a cynical laugh. "After a dreadful life with my sadistic husband, I never pity men." She seemed unperturbed by an apparent note of accusation in Megan's tone. "Let's go, Megan. We talk too much, and I don't want to spend another minute here." She grabbed Megan's forearm. "My brother will stay here and will soon get exactly what he deserves – death sentence. Now go with me."

Isabella nearly dragged Megan to the exit from the cell, and Megan didn't struggle. Once Megan lost her balance, and Isabella jerked her upright. In the next moment, however, Megan wrenched out of her grip, stumbling backward and almost falling but catching her balance in the last instant.

Staring Isabella in the eye, Megan pushed her hair from her eyes. She didn't speak for a short moment as she continued to breathe hard. "I cannot go with you if you don't release Guy," she declared.

Isabella scowled fiercely. "What did you say?"

"We are not the same, Isabella, and I cannot act like you," Megan said in a strongly remonstrative voice. "I try to do many bold things out of duty and love to England; I risk my life for my king and my queen. You are betraying your country and your brother out of hate and greed!"

"You are right that I hate Guy! I want him dead!" Isabella hissed between clenched teeth.

Grimacing in disgust, Megan pointed at Guy's cell. "You captured Guy, your own brother, after he had killed Lord Vaisey, the vile man who terrorized and oppressed the populace for so many years!" Her voice took a higher, more incisive note as anger was taking over her emotions. "Your brother killed the evil man who tried to assassinate King Richard twice! He killed the man who took Sir Robin of Locksley's life and dared accuse Guy of Sir Robin's murder when he himself did this evil deed!"

Isabella's eyes flashed darkly in hot anger, her brows pulled down, and her face conveyed the same strong emotion. "How dare you say this?" Her voice was like a serpent's hiss before striking its victim. But then she suddenly relaxed, and her practical disposition came to surface. "I suppose that I should be grateful. Now I know that I can trust only myself. I am on my own!"

Megan laughed at her. "You put yourself in this situation, Isabella."

"Is that your final decision to share Guy's fate?"

Megan shook her head determinedly. "It is better to die an honorable death on the gallows than to be married to Rotherham, a traitor to England and a reptile who doesn't respect women."

Isabella threw her head back and laughed floutingly. When she stopped laughing and looked back at Megan, her expression was haughty. "I will grant your wish, Megan." Her eyes darted between Megan's face and Guy's shadowy silhouette. "And if you, two lovebirds, want to be together, then you will be together. I have been put in charge of my brother's execution by Prince John, and I promise that you both will have _a grand execution_, with a bloodthirsty throng watching your death."

Her head high, her lips curled in an arrogant and brutish smile, Isabella span on her heel and swept out of Megan's cell. She barked something to the guards, and then Megan heard the sound of receding footsteps. Darkness reigned in the dungeons after Isabella's departure.

Megan started pacing her cell. If she could only escape from this cursed cell, but she knew that it was useless to dream of that! She sat down occasionally on her mattress, pressing one hand to her heart and putting the other to one of her temples, thinking of the course of action she had just taken. She was shocked with her own actions, for she had thought of Rotherham's proposal before Isabella's appearance, but she was even more shocked that she had spoken for Guy. Surprisingly, she felt her blood run cold at the thought of leaving Guy alone in the prison.

"Well done," a voice rasped out of the darkness. "You handled my sister expertly, Megan."

Megan stopped abruptly as she distinguished a tall figure near the grating; she swiftly understood that Guy had stood there, observing her. She didn't see his face, only his dark silhouette, which could have been female or male, for in the darkness Guy was just a figure, a sort of vision which wasn't the vision of things that people see in the ordinary way – there was something too mysterious in him.

"Meg," she corrected him.

"As you wish, young lady. I will call you Meg."

She stalked towards the grating and stopped there. "I hoped that she would take me out of this prison," she said in a lugubrious voice. "Then I could flee and find one of the king's loyal men."

He moved closer to the grating too. "Meg, you had a chance to gain your freedom back by marrying the Baron of Rotherham. You should have accepted my sister's offer to help you."

Megan thought that she was imagining things, and she couldn't believe that he was actually saying that. "Shut up, Guy!" she choked out, tears welling in her throat. Her eyes became watery, and tears trickled down her cheek; but he couldn't see that. "Why don't you understand me? This is so easy to understand, but you still don't! You still–" Her voice broke suddenly.

Guy sensed that she was close to tears, and his heart constricted in his chest. "Meg, don't be mad at me! What should I understand? Tell me everything, and I will try to comprehend," he said suavely.

Her spirits had already swooped, and there was no need to remain aristocratically mannered and outwardly calm. "I hate pretense, and I hate lies! I am a great liar if I need to lie, and only God knows how I often have to lie while being on one of Queen Eleanor's missions! But I hate lying, and I am tired of these games!" she cried out in an anguished voice, her lip twitching at the memory of how many not-very-noble missions she had performed for Eleanor. "Maybe I should have married Rotherham in order to find a way out of here, but I… just couldn't do that because I hate this man with all my heart."

Guy felt his heart beating faster and faster. "You couldn't have lied even for the king?"

Her face went very white, which Guy could see even in the darkness, and she swallowed a sob. "I am very worried about King Richard, but I wouldn't be able to lie in Rotherham's face." Although her hand was trembling badly, she managed to brush away her tears. "I am loyal to King Richard and I will die for him, but I have realized that I cannot lie to and manipulate the king's enemies even for the king's sake, for even a thought of doing such things leaves me empty and makes me feel dirty."

He was amazed. "But you are a court lady and the Queen Mother's spy."

Megan felt a peculiar vexation that she had acknowledged to Guy she had often told falsehood for the queen's sake, for she didn't want to look bad in his eyes; she couldn't find explanation for her own feelings. "I lied to get information from Queen Eleanor's enemies or for reconnaissance at the court. But at least I never used anyone for my own objectives, although it is not enough to justify myself."

"At times, you need to lie to save yourself, and today was exactly this case."

A severe silence set in, which was broken only by the distant sounds of the guards who walked back and forth in the corridors, patrolling the underground dungeons.

She was affronted and offended at his suggestion. "I don't think so, and I don't want to talk about this." She signalled with her strict tone and with a toss of her head that the discussion ended there. Then she spun around and walked to the opposite part of her cell.

Guy gasped for air, his heart beating to suffocation under the stress of her startling words. Looking at her delicate figure perishing in the darkness, he gasped again as his heartbeat accelerated again, his heart pounding so wildly that its pulsations could have probably been seen through his ragged jacket if he was undressed. He was deeply moved by Megan's words and the new sides to her, which he had seen, remarking to himself that there was a great deal in Megan to become acquainted with. There was some delightful conviction in his heart that Megan would impress and surprise him more over time.

A sharp pain slashed through Guy's chest at the thought that his marriage to Marian had been built on lies. Marian had spied on him for Robin Hood, lying in his face and manipulating him shamelessly. Then she had become attracted to him and had married him, but she had continued deceiving him about the true nature of her relationship with Robin. Moreover, Marian had married him while still being betrothed to Robin! While it was true that Marian had been confused with her feelings, but her lies and confusion had caused much pain to Robin and to him; he couldn't deny that it was Marian's fault. Now he knew why he had often seen a strange, detached expression on Marian's face, as if she had been dreaming of something or someone, most likely of her childhood heroic sweetheart.

Megan was not Marian, although they had much in common – they both were unique women in their own ways. Marian and Megan both had an unerring sense of moral values, but they were still very different. Megan's startling behavior was a stark contrast with Marian's, for his former wife had been feeding him with falsehood after falsehood and he had believed her. Megan came across as a young lady who hated lies, pretense, and masks, and it was one of the most admirable things in Megan's character, which Guy had a chance to see so far.

Guy heard Megan seat down on the floor and hauled an agitated sigh. "Calm down, Meg. It is still dark, and you should try to sleep more," he recommended, his voice very gentle.

She leaned back against the wall and shut her eyes, one of her palms wiping away the tears that had formed in her eyes, spilled over, and ran down her cheeks. "I will try, but I doubt that I will succeed. I cannot be as composed as you are." Her voice was plaintive.

"The longer you are here, the calmer you will be," he volunteered an opinion in a voice that belonged to a man who comprehended something which a few others knew.

She didn't reply anything to his prophetic statement. She embraced her knees, pressed her forehead to them, and cried herself dry. In the depths of her heart, she was ashamed of herself as she had showed susceptibility to their misery and her vulnerability, but she couldn't be stoic anymore. She wept quietly but deeply, and her whole body was wracked with sobs. Guy heard the sounds of her cries and often looked in her direction, peering into the darkness as his eyes were trying to see the outlines of her shivering form; but he didn't utter a word, taking this tactful approach as he understood that all his attempts to support her would be feeble and she would only get angry with him.

Eventually, Megan's sobs subsided, and at dawn, when bleak light seeped through the narrow window, she fell into restless sleep. Megan had no idea that Guy stood near the grating, watching her sleep and regretting that he couldn't carry her to her mattress, for it was too inconvenient and too cold to sleep on the stone floor with her head pressed against the wall. There was a movement of compunction in his heart as he again thought of his inability to save Megan's life, and that was new and strange to him that he, a selfish and callous man, was so concerned about a fate of someone whom he barely knew.

§§§

Many days passed, and Megan was becoming more melancholic. Darkness infiltrated her and infected her heart and her insides, filling her to the core and blending with the ebony darkness of the dungeons in nighttime. Soon Megan burned herself out with her despair and became torpid with excess of mental agony and fear. She agonized over the king's fate and her father's emotional state in her absence, and a feeling of lethargic despondency was gnawing at her, driving her to deeper depths of hell.

Megan snuggled under a thin blanket and wrapped her both arms around herself, savoring the warmth on her skin. Yet, she was still shuddering from cold as it was very cold in the dungeons; there was also a lack of fresh air and the stench, and she felt as if she were suffocating. It was deadly quiet in the dungeons, and the only human sounds in her ears were the beating of her heart and her labored breathing, as well as Guy's footsteps as he walked across his cell when he didn't sleep.

At first, Megan couldn't fall asleep. She was cloaked in her misery and her devastating grief as the thoughts of her own future, which seemed dark and tragic, wreathed and twined in her mind. However, in spite of her despair, sleep claimed her soon, for she was exhausted mentally and physically and emotionally. Yet, her dreams were awful and her sleep was fitful: she dreamt of her own death on the gallows, and she trembled as she envisioned her own headless body in a pool of blood.

"Argh!" Megan awoke with a loud groan, her hair clinging to her forehead in a cold sweat.

As he heard her scream, Guy raised himself up from his mattress and stared into the familiar irritating semidarkness, for he had already gotten accustomed to the lack of light. It was dawn, and he could make out details of his own cell and of the adjourning cell as well. "Did you have a nightmare, Meg?" he asked. His footsteps as noiselessly as panther's, he moved across the cell to the grating.

Megan got to her feet and walked to the grating, where she found Guy sitting on the floor and looking in her direction. Her eyes met his, and she raised a quizzical eyebrow at him, but he only laughed in response. She noticed that his eyes were steel blue and sparkled like a blade's steel, but there was no cruelty in his gaze – instead she could discern anxiety, concern, and curiosity.

She gave a nod. "Yes, I did."

He nodded back in understanding. "I know. It often happens with prisoners condemned to death," he said in a hushed voice. "As for me, I have to say that I am accustomed to horrible nightmares that have been plaguing me since the death of my parents."

"Guy," she called him softly, "did you sleep while I slept?"

"No, I didn't. I just cannot sleep," he said simply.

"Do you have… nightmares about Vaisey?"

He breathed a deep sigh. "Everything in combination."

"How did your parents die, Guy?" Megan inquired.

Guy was at a loss for a moment. He couldn't say that he had killed his parents, for King Richard had revealed to him that King Henry and Bailiff Longthorn were the main perpetrators.

After a long, cliffhanging silence, Guy spoke. "There was one man who wanted to confiscate my lands, and he needed to kill my parents." He emitted a deep sigh. "I accidentally started the fire at Gisborne Manor, and then that vile man used his chance: he intimidated the villagers who set afire the façade of the building." He paused, suddenly finding himself unable to speak as terror in his heart left him drained and frightened. "My parents and Robin's father were trapped in the burning manor."

Megan gazed at him incredulously. "Did Lord Huntingdon's father and your parents die together?"

"Yes, they did."

"This is awful!" she cried out, taken aback. "You seem to have suffered a lot."

Unexpectedly something unleashed within him, and Guy started telling Megan a long story about the fire and his subsequent banishment from Locksley and Nottinghamshire. She listened to him with great attention, never interrupting him and seemed to be swallowing every word. Yet, there was an unusual expression on her face – an expression of strange familiarity, as if she had already heard the same story before. Guy couldn't know that Sir Hugh Bennet had already told her many things about Guy and his deals with Vaisey, and there was the reason why Megan's father knew a lot about Guy.

She found Guy a different man from the image that had formed in her head before: he was a repentant sinner, who craved for redemption. Guy wasn't an iron-hearted beast, and all the tales of his cruelty and wickedness were twisted and exaggerated, many of them being outrageous and fake. She was surprised to receive proof that Guy had underwent a complete reformation of his character, and she firmly believed that he deserved another chance to lead a normal life as a changed man.

His expression distorted in helpless anger and then became forlorn. "I did suffer, but it is only my deal because you are too young and naïve to understand my life and me," he burst out in a bitter tone. A quick thought came to him that she did want to help him, but he closed himself off emotionally because of his selfishness and pride. "But I don't need your pity. And I don't care whether I die or survive."

Her gaze wandered around her cell and then swung back to him. "Is your life really so empty that you don't care whether you live or die?"

Guy gazed at her, but he didn't think of her and didn't see her. All of a sudden, his eyes widened, and he seemed to be very uncomfortable. "I killed too many people," he supplied woefully, hardly believing that he was permitting her to look into the sanctuary of his thoughts and his heart. "In my mind, I often live through my first murder in the forest of Rouvray, near Rouen. On that night years ago, I killed in cold blood a knight who didn't have time to understand what was going on. Then I was forced to behead his corpse, and I did that." His lower lip trembled, and unshed tears glistened in his eyes. "I often mentally travel to the city of Angers, where I ambushed and killed many warriors, also in the woods." He sighed. "I murdered more people in Angers than in Rouen."

"Good gracious!" She was shocked with his words, but she rapidly recovered her calmness as it wasn't the first time in her life when she heard such bloody stories.

"Are you disgusted with me?"

"No, I am not."

Guy moved away from the bars, but she was quicker and grabbed his hand in hers, pressing a knuckle with her thumb and then squeezing it tightly. Staring into his awestruck eyes, she squeezed his hand again sympathetically, wishing to alleviate his pain in the way she could.

"Why?" he breathed. "Why are you not disgusted by me?"

She chuckled. "Disgust is an absurd thing to feel before you learn more about the matter."

Guy blinked, astounded. There had never been any stranger who wished to talk to him before making any conclusions about his personality. "Why do you say this?"

"Why did you kill those knights? I don't think that you wanted to spill their blood." Guy didn't have an easygoing personality, and his past was dark and full of gloom, but that intrigued her even more.

Guy was so nervous and so anxious that his breathing became labored and harsh. "They were Prince Richard's loyal knights, who were King Henry's adversaries." He took away his hand away from her grip and raked his fingers through his long dark hair, simultaneously trying to steady his breathing. "Sheriff Vaisey always targeted the loyal supporters of Prince Richard and Queen Eleanor. When I began to work for him, I learnt that the sheriff had already launched the campaign of killing those who had supported Queen Eleanor and her sons in the revolt of 1173; he did that at King Henry's behest."

"Were these killings really so brutal?"

He hesitated to speak first, but then he rebuked himself for that because he had already begun to speak, and it was no use to keep silent. "Very brutal," he replied in a low voice, his eyes darkening with spine-chilling emotion. "I chopped off the heads, limbs, and fingers of dying knights, and I treated the corpses of some of them in the same manner. Meanwhile, Vaisey was watching and laughing."

Megan shivered as a tremor of shock slipped her whole body. "Good heavens! This sounds dreadful!" As she envisaged such stomach-churning pictures, she had to struggle to ward off the urge to vomit.

"It was indeed dreadful and bloody." Guy folded his arms over his broad chest. There were tears in his eyes, and a hefty lump of disgust was choking him. He swallowed heavily, but the lump didn't go away. "Vaisey started teaching me to kill in Rouen and finished our classes with the bloodbath in Angers; there was no way back to my old life after Angers."

"But you regret murdering those people?" Megan noticed tears in his eyes, comprehending that he felt ashamed of himself. Her heart thumped hard and fast; not from fear to hear that he had committed such atrocities but out of sympathy she felt for him.

"Yes, I do regret that I killed them," he said a hoarse voice. "And there is another thing I also regret."

"What is it?"

Guy continued staring at her, but his eyes were distant. "I regret that I hadn't murdered Vaisey before he killed Robin Hood," he confessed, trying to keep his voice flat and neutral but failing completely. "In my mind, I am frequently transported many thousands miles away, to Imuiz. I see Robin lying on the crimson sand with his own scimitar protruding out of his flesh." His expression revealed his deep-rooted pain and his remorse. "And I feel so guilty for not preventing Vaisey, the monster who brutalized me and ruined my life, from taking Robin's life."

Megan was thinking of Vaisey with a feeling of odium spreading through her at the knowledge that the sheriff had made a bonfire out of Guy's soul. "Vaisey seems to have been a monster."

Guy looked at Megan, and she thought that for the first time since the beginning of their heart-to-heart conversation, he noticed her presence near the grating. He seemed to be living in his own world of darkness while he was sharing with her the secrets of his sinful existence.

"Vaisey was worse than a demon – he was the devil himself or at least the devil's servant," he asserted dispassionately, as if he were just a disinterested witness to a horrible drama of his own past.

A few moments later, a disquieting silence reigned in the dungeons as they kept staring at each other. The air was charged with anxiety and tension, and stillness was absolute while a storm of conflicted emotions assailed and raged in the hearts of the two innocents locked in the dungeons.

"May I ask you a question?" Megan said at last, smiling to herself as if at an absurdity.

Guy didn't mind being asked anything else about his past. "Yes, Meg. I have already told you so much about my life that a bit more frankness won't make me feel worse." He sighed loudly.

"Oh, Heaven!" she exclaimed, rubbing her wrists. "Don't sigh so deeply. Just one question."

"Ask what you want." He scowled, suddenly feeling impatient to close the topic.

"I know that you are a nasty piece of work, Guy. But I cannot understand why your own sister wants to keep you in the dungeons for about five months."

He looked shocked. "Four months?"

She nodded. "Yes. You must have lost a track of time, right?"

"So much time," he murmured gravely.

"So tell me why Lady Isabella hates you and wishes you dead."

Guy was silent for a moment. A chill chased up his spine, and a look of shame spread over his features, for he hated those memories of the day when Isabella had married Squire Thornton. "I found Isabella a husband. That's what I did," he said in a subdued tone, looking away. "I got a good price, too."

Megan looked at him with terror in her eyes. "You sold her? Your own sister?".

His angry gaze returned to her. "It was her best chance in life. We had nothing, and I couldn't support her. It is not my fault that she made a mess out of her marriage and life."

"You sold her to a monster," she denunciated him. "You didn't care whom you forced her to belong to."

Guy twisted his fingers. "You are a stupid girl. You know nothing about that."

"I am not a stupid girl! I am Megan!" she cried out indignantly. She shivered and wrapped her arms round herself for warmth. "And I am thirsty. And it is very cold here," she lamented.

Sighing deeply, Guy stood up abruptly and strode towards his straw mattress, where he leaned down and checked a flask of water that lay on the floor; it was empty, and he had nothing to offer her for some comfort. He sighed, feeling himself as miserable as he hadn't felt in the earlier days of his imprisonment. Relieved that she couldn't see his guilty countenance as he was far from her, he took a subtle breath and forced himself to calm down; then he stalked towards the grating.

He stopped next to the grating and sat down. "There is something that can help you – the stone around your neck. You need to suck it, and that will make your mouth water."

Megan lowered her head and looked at her necklace, then took the stone in her hands and put it in her mouth. She broke into a melodious laugh, and as it faded away, she glanced at Gisborne, who gave her a confused look, puzzled with her mood swing.

"Thank you," she said humbly. "Also, I am starving."

Guy reached out for a loaf of old bread, which lay on a plate near the grating; he had left it there a day ago. Then he handed her the loaf, and she took it, her expression nonplused.

"Here, take it. Keep your strength up," he said quietly.

Holding it in her hand, she was staring at him without speaking for a moment. Then she said seriously, "There must be some good in you if you want to share with me your own bread."

He laughed mournfully. "You don't know me, Meg."

"If you were a full-fledged and heartless villain, you would have allowed me to starve."

"I thought that such an independent lady like you hated men," he said somewhat teasingly.

She nibbled on some bread but grimaced in disgust, for it was old and stale, and it tasted not quite pleasantly. Nevertheless, she was so hungry that she ate it rapaciously. "I do hate men." She paused and took another bite of bread. "I do hate stupid and selfish idiots, who marry young maidens only to have their dowry, slake their pent-up passions, and beget their heirs."

Guy scoffed. "Not all men are as bad as you think."

She looked at him with an enigmatic smile, and he smiled back at her. Soon they returned to their mattresses and rested there in a dour silence until darkness filled the dungeons.

Finally, Megan couldn't be silent anymore and said, "Come to the grating, Guy!"

Soon they were sitting on the floor, looking at one another through the grating, although they couldn't see each other well as it was already past dusk and night was setting in.

"What are you thinking of?" Guy questioned after a pause.

She heaved a dejected sigh. "Is it always so quiet here?"

"Always," Guy replied shortly.

"This silence is driving me mad!" she complained. "I want to sing!"

Guy gaped at her words. "What?"

She laughed at him. "Guy, did you forget that I have grown up at the court in Aquitaine?"

"And what?"

Megan felt her heart leap at the memory of her childhood. "Although Queen Eleanor was imprisoned in England, Prince Richard's court was truly great – it was a trend setter for France, Holy Roman Empire, and England." She smiled to herself. "In childhood, I was surrounded by lavish entertainment and great frivolity, and it had a great impact on me." Her smile grew wider. "I have never been as frivolous as many other southern ladies, but we have much in common with them – we love music of troubadours!"

"I have never liked opulence, idleness, and debauchery, and I tend to dislike Aquitaine."

"Don't be so boring, Guy! Music is a powerful form of communicating our feelings and emotions!"

"But not for me, Meg."

"But I have a southern spirit, although my father is an Englishman!" she cried out, laughing lightly. "I don't know how you could live in England all the time! The English don't know how to live and enjoy life – they are so are prim and proper, which makes them boring and their life routine!"

"Meg, you might be annoying, but you are definitely remarkable." Although he sounded a little vexed, there was a smile on his face that gave her a non-verbal confirmation of his approval.

Megan shut her eyes and took a deep breath. Her mind drifted back to the days when she occupied a place at Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine's right side at one of the lavishly served tables "_in the __hall of lost footsteps_" – _La Salle des Pas Perdus_. She loved spending evenings in the ducal apartments in the Maubergeonne Tower, when Eleanor and her ladies-in-waiting sat before the hearth, sewing and embroidering while one of the Aquitanian troubadours sang for them. She smiled at the remembrance of her chats with Queen Eleanor about courtly love, art, and chivalry. Megan loved her childhood and adulthood at the royal court in Poitiers, and she was glad that she hadn't grown up in England.

Megan giggled. "I am going to sing one of the songs of Giraut de Bornelh, who earned the nickname of _Master of the Troubadours_. It will be _"Reis glorios, verais lums e clartatz_." Then she went on.

_Reis glorios, verais lums e clartatz,_

_Deus poderos, Senher, si a vos platz,_

_Al meu companh siatz fizels aiuda!_

_Qu'eu no lo vi, pos la nochs fo venguda,_

_Et ades sera l'alba_

Guy wasn't amazed that Megan could sing in Occitan, for she wasn't an English countryside girl, like Marian. He had never known the Occitan language very well, but he was a well-educated man, and he could understand it quite well. To give her children excellent education, Lady Ghislane of Gisborne had hired an excellent teacher of languages, mathematics, art, and philosophy, and as a result Guy could speak and understand five languages – English, Norman-French, Latin, Italian, and Occitan.

Megan finished the first verse. "Did you understand what I sang?"

"I did."

"Prove that."

Guy let out a laugh, his spirits improving. "_Glorious king, true light and clarity, Almighty God, Lord, in your charity, be a true help now to my friend! For I've not seen him since day's end, and soon it will be dawn!_" He paused to extract from the depths of his memory some details about the song. "If I am not mistaken, this song was composed in the year of King Richard's accession to the throne."

She was very impressed with his knowledge. "You are right, Guy. Giraut de Bornelh is King Richard's friend and one of his favorite troubadours." She sighed audibly, feeling downhearted. "I chose this song because I remembered about the king, who is languishing in captivity; only God or King Richard can save us now."

"Straight to the point," he voiced his agreement.

Megan sighed and continued singing in Occitan, trying to distract herself from her sad thoughts.

_Bel companho, si dormetz o velhatz,_

_No dormatz plus, suau vos ressidatz!_

_Qu'en orien vei l'estela creguda_

_C'amena.l jorn, qu'eu l'ai be conoguda,_

_Et ades sera l'alba_

Guy smiled to himself as he listened to the song. "_Sweet friend, do you wake or are you sleeping? Sleep no more, now, you must be waking! For in the east I see a star rise Day-bringer, star familiar to my eyes, And soon it will be dawn_." He began to like Megan's company a lot, thinking with pleasure that it was better to have a small court of love in the dungeons than to think of their impending death.

Megan sang several more verses and then sank into silence. "Are you feeling better?"

"It was a good way to cheer us up, and you succeeded," Guy responded.

"I am not a brilliant singer, not like Melisende, but I can sing rather well."

"Do you mean Robin's wife?"

"Surely."

"I didn't know that she can sing."

She smiled fondly as she recalled her childhood games with Melisende. "Lady Melisende is the most amazing lady I have ever met; singing is one of her favorite pastimes."

"My mother, Lady Ghislane de Bailleul and later of Gisborne, also liked love songs, but she didn't sing. She was born in an old and rich Norman family." His heart compressed in a vise in his chest as he remembered his Norman relatives, who had thrown him out of the castle years ago. "My mother spent most of her early youth in Normandy and in Aquitaine, including the royal court in Poitiers."

"I have heard a lot about Lady Ghislane."

"Really?"

"Yes," she said, slowly and with emotion. "I know the story of your mother's life."

A silence hung over the two cells for a few aching moments before Guy mustered courage to ask her, "Who told you about my mother? What do you know?"

"The Queen Mother told me about Lady Ghislane's affair with King Henry and about her happy marriage to Sir Roger of Gisborne." She paused; she wasn't sure that he would like what she was going to say, but she wanted to be honest with him. "She spoke about you after reading King Richard's letter, where he informed her about your attempt on his life in disguise, when you… wounded Lord Huntingdon."

"God's teeth!" A wave of shame washed over him, and he hung his head. "Every time I remember the night of the Saracen attack, I feel thoroughly ashamed of myself. I shouldn't have stabbed Robin that night; he was grievously injured, but he was so brave."

"It will surprise you if I say something else."

Guy took a sharp inhale of breath, trembling all over in anticipation. "What?"

"Actually, I was amazed by Queen Eleanor's reaction," Megan said flatly, straining her eyes and peering ahead, trying to better see Guy's face. "Queen Eleanor was very saddened by the news that you tried to kill King Richard and wounded the Earl of Huntingdon in the process." She shrugged. "Although she was regal and cold, I saw pain and something else beneath her official coldness. She was hurt by the news that you – exactly you – stabbed Sir Robin. And then she spoke about your mother."

There was a moment's silence as Guy was digesting the information. He easily guessed the truth behind Megan's words: Queen Eleanor knew about the dark mysteries of the past and the secret blood ties between King Richard, Robin, and Guy. He was astounded to learn about Eleanor's sadness, and that surprisingly made him feel some sympathy to the old lady.

"Well, Queen Eleanor arranged my mother's marriage to my father, and she used to like her despite the fact that once mother was King Henry's mistress." Guy's voice sounded cold and didn't reveal his true feelings. "Maybe this is the reason why she was saddened."

Megan felt that there was something else behind Guy's words, but she didn't dare ask him anything. "The Queen Mother remembers Lady Ghislane very well. You are correct that she cared for your mother very much – she told me the same."

"Yes." Guy hoped that she would change the topic, and she did.

"By the way, Robin Hood spoke perfect Occitan."

"You must have seen Robin at the court."

"Not many times, actually. I met him on one of the private feasts in the Queen Mother's quarters, before the king departed to the Holy Land." She laughed. "My father had already retired from King Richard's service, but he was still at the court. I was very young girl back then, but my father always took me to festivities. And during one of such evenings, I saw young Sir Robin: he sat between King Richard and Queen Eleanor, singing one of the songs in perfect Occitan, together with our king."

His heart began to pound harder. "And did you like Robin?"

"I found Lord Huntingdon unusual and eccentric," Megan verbalized her perception of Robin Hood. "Sir Robin was charming and handsome, but he was very arrogant and full of himself, thrived in attention to him, and craved to be adored and loved by everyone. Everyone talked about him, which annoyed me a great deal. These things are trivialities for most people, but I didn't like them in Sir Robin."

"Oh, I recognize Robin." He gave her a knowing smile, cocking his head. "So you were one of those ladies who dreamt to be with Robin Hood," he chaffed.

She gazed at him in surprise. "This is an ungrounded conclusion! Sir Robin was a handsome and great man, but I didn't tell you that he was a man of my dreams."

It was his turn to look at her in astonishment. "I have to say that I am astounded."

"Oh!" Megan exclaimed, laughing at him. "And why should I be charmed by Lord Huntingdon, like so many other ladies and lasses who loved him and pined for him even though he didn't care for them?"

Guy smiled at her. "Well, then you are an exception in the general trend."

"As I said, but I would have never fallen for the Earl of Huntingdon."

"I am positively amazed, Meg."

"It serves you right to feel so."

"Actually, I am surprised that Robin spoke perfect Occitan. It seems that something changed after my banishment." Guy raised his eyes, fixing his gaze at the dark ceiling. "When I lived in Gisborne, before the fire, Robin was unwilling to study anything and liked only outdoor activities and games, especially practicing archery in Sherwood." He turned his gaze back to her. "Robin's father was frustrated that his heir lacked interest in studies."

"You must have been accomplished in studies of languages, philosophy, and art in your boyhood, given that your mother was from the de Bailleul family. I think that young Sir Robin was different: he was a troublemaker, and you didn't appreciate his mischievous nature. I suppose, you disliked each other because of these differences."

"You have a keen mind, Meg," he commended her.

"By the way, I met the grown-up Lord Huntingdon in Poitiers two and a half years ago." She blessed herself with a cross over her chest, praying for Robin's soul. "He was a great man, loyal to King Richard and England. He was a very handsome man, and I know several women from the court, who were his lovers and were head over heels in love with him." She sniggered at the memories. "Ladies at the court always discussed Sir Robin's bravery and his heroic deeds. Many of them dreamt that he would pay at least a little attention to them and choose one of them as his lover, I am sorry for my frankness."

"This is a typical Robin."

A long silence followed. Nobody was prone to talk about Robin and the court anymore.

Megan again felt crestfallen and fearful. "And if we stay here for longer, how will we feel then?"

He released a sigh of misery. "Every prisoner lives through all the stages of torture and madness in prison." He lowered his voice and continued, "At first, you hope that you will be released soon or that you will escape. In a few moments, you begin to doubt your own innocence, and you cannot make a difference between reality and dreams because you are lost in darkness. And then you find refuge in mental alienation, and you beg God to save you or to send you any kind of quick death."

"And if God doesn't help?"

"You will die eventually, at the hands of an executioner, at your own hand, or a natural death," Guy said with profound indifference. He sounded resigned to his fate.

"But maybe someone will find and free us."

"Dreams, Meg. Only dreams."

"Why?"

"Meg, almost nobody knows that these dungeons, called _the underground hell, _exist."

Megan shuddered in horror. "Nobody?"

He gave a nod. "Yes."

"Why?"

He sighed. "Vaisey built the underground dungeons to hide Prince John's treasures from Robin Hood and his gang. The construction works had been finished before our voyage to Acre."

"So it will become our grave?"

Guy couldn't lie to her, and couldn't lie to himself, although he wished deeply that he was wrong. "It grieves me to the very heart to say this, but, most likely, we will die here, Meg." He trailed off, collecting his thoughts. "Unless you marry Rotherham or someone frees the king."

"Never tell me about marrying this beast!" Megan screamed angrily. "It is better to marry you than the Baron of Rotherham! There is more humanity and kindness in you than in him!"

Guy laughed almost tragically, the sharp sound disrobing his self-loathing. "Never say such things to a man like me – to a criminal and a murderer. I simply don't deserve this." A smirk expanded across his face. "Or did your imprisonment cloud your judgment?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Then think before you speak."

Megan clenched her fists, her eyes shooting daggers. "Don't be so excited, Guy of Gisborne! I would have never married you, especially if you continue encroach on my independence!"

Guy only smirked at Megan's spontaneous outburst. She was as temperamental and spirited as he had thought of her at first glance when he had saved her life in one of the streets in Nottingham. He smiled at the thought that her eyes were so strikingly blue, and they were a shade lighter than Marian's and a shade darker than Robin's. He liked looking into Megan's eyes, feeling that he could see her naked soul there when she permitted him to enter the depths of her real world, which she usually hid by habit; amusingly, it wasn't the case with Marian. To Guy, it was easier to understand Megan than Marian, probably due to Megan's directedness, honesty, and knowledge of her true self and her real feelings.

§§§

Robin's journey home continued not as smoothly as he and his companions had anticipated. Their ship made a short stop in Messina and Palermo and then set a course for Marseilles, but bad weather conditions caused a significant delay in their journey across the Mediterranean Sea. On the way to Marseilles, storms were so dangerous and so violent that the small vessel could have been shipwrecked near any uninhabited island or sank in the waters of the sea. It took them nearly three weeks to get from Palermo to Marseilles, much more time than it should have been.

Robin and his friends disembarked in Marseilles in early February. About seven months passed since Robin had been stabbed by Vaisey and a year and a half since he had left England. So many events happened that Robin was seized by a great wealth of emotions – despair, confusion, amazement, bewilderment, joy, and happiness, coupled with incomprehension, doubts, and fears. The only thing that he knew for sure was that he was happy to again be in the Angevin Empire. Robin's survival taught him a great lesson – great events could have unpredictable and incalculable results.

Everyone was in exhilarated spirits, anticipating that King Richard had been home and that everything would be alright very soon. Only Robin and Carter were full of trepidation for some unknown reasons, for they felt that everything would go as well as they planned. Robin was filled with apprehension throughout the whole journey to England, and Carter succumbed to his friend's foul mood, which intensified after their arrival in Marseilles, where they didn't hear anything about Richard's safe return.

They made their way through the Duchy of Toulouse, where they first heard a rumor about King Richard's disappearance. Their spirits plummeted, and everyone surrendered to melancholy. The further they moved inland, the more often they heard the grievous rumors about the king's death; at least they didn't hear anything about Prince John's coronation yet. As they reached Poitou, they heard strange tales that the king had probably been shipwrecked and had died in the aftermath.

The winter air was rather cold but still mild for this time of the year; winters in England were different. It was also very damp, and there were some days when it rained heavily without intermission, and when the wind from the north blew in boisterous gusts.

By the time Robin of Locksley and his friends left the Duchy of Toulouse behind, the harshness of the winter strengthened and temperature plummeted, and somewhere the ground was covered by a thick layer of dazzling white snow that didn't begin to thaw yet. They traveled through the snow-covered countryside of Aquitaine, with its versatile and richly ornamented tapestry of landscapes – from highly-populated walled towns and moat-ringed castles to dramatic deserted beaches and from fascinating river valleys to countless vineyards of various grapes.

They traveled through the heart of the Angevin Empire – through Aquitaine. As they rode through great bare forests, with bare trees and abundant pastureland that were empty in the winter, Robin recalled the first time when he had visited Aquitaine. The first thing that he had noticed in the southern regions of the Angevin Empire was that the lands were intersected and crisscrossed by the river waters of the Garonne, Charente, Creuse, and other rivers. At his fifteen, he had liked the beautiful landscapes of Aquitaine, and he had fallen in love with the place.

At the royal court in Poitiers, Robin and his friends were surprised not to find not only King Richard, but also Queen Eleanor. As they understood that something serious had happened to the king and the queen, Robin didn't make a public appearance at the court as the Earl of Huntingdon, who had miraculously survived his seemingly mortal wound and had finally returned home. Instead, Robin started covering his head with his hood in order to avoid recognition. In secret, he had a meeting with Sir William de Longchamp, King Richard's staunch supporter and close friend, as well as the very man who had helped Richard save Robin from Bailiff Longhorn.

William de Longchamp was overmastered with happiness that Robin had again cheated death. De Longchamp told Robin all the disturbing news about King Richard and Queen Eleanor; he also shared with Robin a great deal of information about the recent events in the Angevin Empire. They decided that they wouldn't officially announce the fact of Robin's survival at least until the moment when they understood where Richard was. Robin would continue being dead for a while.

De Longchamp told Robin that Sir Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, had departed to Italy and then had taken an inland route through the Alps and the Holy Roman Empire, trying to find a trace of King Richard and his party. Robin's wife Melisende had arrived in Aquitaine and then had retired to her lands in Bordeaux after getting the news of Queen Eleanor's arrest. De Longchamp recommended that Robin go to Bordeaux for several days and suggested that next time they would meet in Calais; the old man pledged to arrange Robin's meeting with the Earl of Leicester there.

Robin and the others left the court in Poitiers and hastily journeyed to the south-west, in the direction of Bordeaux, a port city on the Garonne River. Bordeaux was also the place where Queen Eleanor held her court at Ombrière Palace in summer, when she wanted to enjoy chevauchées that usually ended at the tiled fountains and semitropical gardens in the palace. The travelers didn't enter the city of Bordeaux and rode towards Gironde and Mazères, where Melisende had taken her residence.

Robin and his friends entered the gates of Mazères in the late hours of the February day. Everyone was exhausted from the long and arduous journey, particularly Robin and Carter who were still not as physically strong as they had been before. As they rode through the village and stopped near a small local tavern, Robin asked in Occitan where they could find a nearby inn; among the travelers, he was the only one who spoke Occitan, almost without any accent, which impressed Archer, Carter, and Will, though it puzzled Tuck, who watched Robin with strange curiosity in his eyes.

They dismounted and sniffled, as the drizzling rain had already misted the air, and massive droplets were dripping and plopping from the roofs of the buildings in the neighborhood.

As he hopped down from his horse onto the wet ground, Robin felt a nagging pain course through his lower abdomen, and he repressed a groan. Having covered his face with the hood, he walked forward and gave the reins to a stable boy.

Taking example from their leader, everyone pulled their hoods down over their faces. Given that Djaq was a Saracen, her skin color stood out like a sore thumb, and it was decided that they would travel hooded to remain incognito and avoid attracting unwanted attention. There were many Crusaders returning home from the Holy Land, and many of whom knew Robin, and so it was exceedingly important to keep their true identities confidential, especially Robin's.

The door of the inn opened, and the innkeeper hastened to go outside, running his eyes over the guests. "How can I help you, my lords?" he asked in Occitan.

Robin made a slight bow. "We need three rooms for the night," he replied in perfect Occitan. "Perhaps, we will stay here for more than one night."

The innkeeper bowed to Robin and his friends. Although their heads were hooded, the man understood that they were not simple poor travelers, for Archer, and Carter were dressed in expensive coats of the best English wool and Robin's coat was made out of the finest velvet. The man noticed that Robin and Carter wore rings with their families' coat-of-arms, and it was clear to him that his guests were noblemen, probably not high-ranked ones but definitely nobles.

Robin paused and shuddered as he felt the burning pain in his lower abdomen. He wobbled and struggled to keep his feet, and Archer dashed to him to support him. Will was by Robin's side in a moment, and they lifted Robin in their arms and carried him inside the inn, to a room allocated to them by the innkeeper. Djaq trod after Archer and Will, while Tuck and Carter went to another room, which they were supposed to share.

Archer and Will put Robin on a bed, and then they stepped aside, leaving Djaq enough space to work on her patient's behalf. Djaq motioned Archer to help her undress Robin, and Archer began to act. Swearing under his breath, Robin struggled to extricate from his half-brother's viselike grip, saying that he would do everything by himself. Of course, nobody listened to Robin's protests.

Archer slid his arm around Robin's waist to prevent the stubborn man from continuing his struggle. "What are you doing, Robin? You were terribly wounded! You are not healthy yet! You need our help!"

"Robin, you are really unwell," Will agreed.

"Release me!" Robin commanded. "I will undress by myself! I can do that by myself!"

"Shut up, Robin," Archer growled as he stripped his half-brother of the coat and pulled at the fastenings of Robin's tunic. "Damn you, Robin, you need physician's assistance. And why the devil are you causing yourself more pain? Do you ever listen to our warnings, for God's sake?"

Robin swung his gaze to his half-brother. "What else do you want to say, Archer?" He furrowed his brows. "Do you take much pleasure in seeing me helpless and in pain? Do you mean this?"

Will shook his head. "We are worried about you. We take no pleasure in your pain."

"Hmm," Arched grumbled. "Robin, you know that you may be very obnoxious, like me, eh?"

Robin smiled vaguely. "I am the most intolerable man in Christendom."

They laughed, releasing their tension in a long and merry laughter. Only Robin didn't laugh.

"Thanks be to God that he has finally understood," Will commented with a small smile.

Having resigned himself to the necessity to get help from his friends, Robin busied himself with surveying his surroundings. The chamber was dark and not large, with the tiny hearth set into the wall. Aside from two beds covered with fresh linen sheets, two walnut chairs, and a large table near the hearth. There was a large tub in the corner, and Robin began to dream of having a bath.

The chamber had only one small casement window. Robin didn't like the room, for, after living in his richly furnished tent in the king's camp or in his luxurious quarters in the Citadel of Acre, he was accustomed to a more comfortable lifestyle, but at least the room had everything for basic comfort. He didn't welcome the idea of coming back to the outlaws' camp in the forest, where he had only a firm bunk and often slept on the bare earth. Robin was a little spoiled, even though it sounded incredible.

Soon Robin lay on the bed naked to his waist, and Archer offered to cover him with a bedcover, but Robin refused. Robin wrapped his arms around himself, covering his scars with his palms; his left hand was on his scar on his left side, the other on his lower stomach. Archer poked up the fire in the hearth and threw a log there; then he returned to the bed where Robin rested.

Djaq unpacked several bottles with oils and powders; she also extracted bandages and clean cloths. She stalked towards the bed and knelt, preparing to tend to Robin's healed wound. During the next half an hour, she expertly performed a procedure of soaking therapy, cleaning the damaged area on Robin's lower stomach with the cloth soaked in a mixture of red wine and rose oil, which was essential to accelerate the scar maturation process.

"Djaq, what is going on with me? Do I still have any complications?" Robin inquired anxiously; he grimaced at the sensation of cloth touching his scar and the red skin around it.

Djaq sighed heavily. She was weary of his questions as he had already asked him about his health so many times that she couldn't enumerate them. "Robin, you don't have infection and inflammation anymore, and you won't contract a fever again. Your wound has healed really well. But you strained yourself too much during our journey from Marseilles to Poitiers and then from Poitiers to Bordeaux."

There was a momentary look of vulnerability on Robin's face. "Will I recuperate completely?"

"Robin, you are very, very lucky to be alive," Djaq grumbled, sliding her fingers across the muscles of his stomach. "You had a penetrating injury in your stomach, and some of intra-abdominal structures were damaged." She muttered something in Arabic under her breath. "It is a miracle that your vital organs were not damaged and that you didn't had an intra-abdominal abscess."

"It is only Vaisey's fault." Robin clenched his teeth. The lurid blue of his eyes gleamed with hatred and rage. "It is such a great misfortune that Gisborne killed Vaisey. I planned to kill him by myself."

"Robin, we wouldn't have allowed you to come close to Vaisey," Archer asserted.

Will nodded. "I agree."

Robin shrank at the touch of the cold cloth against his skin. "When will this wound stop troubling me? I must be able to fight as soon as possible. We have the King of England and the Queen Mother to save."

Djaq glanced at Robin, still holding the cloth on the wound. "Robin, you must be patient. I told you that you would be able to fight as well as you could before," she answered truthfully. "And I warned you that we should have waited more until you felt better and were fit to travel."

Robin groaned. "You know that I had to go home."

Djaq rolled her eyes in annoyance and braced herself for the inevitable arguments. "I will say nothing else on the matter. You already know my opinion."

Robin heaved a sigh. "I felt that something wasn't right with King Richard."

Archer chuckled. "Robin, I am amazed that your presentiments were true, as we see now."

Will nodded. "Robin, I also watched you. Your uneasy forebodings made you pale and trembling every time when we spoke about the king and dreamt that everything would be well upon our return."

Djaq raised her gaze at Robin, and their gazes locked. He smiled at her mysteriously, and she smiled back, thinking of Robin's true relationship with the king. The others didn't need to know his secret.

Everyone went very still, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Djaq advised that the temperature in the room be kept warmer, and Archer went downstairs, asking servants to fetch more firewood in the chamber. When he returned, he put more logs in the hearth to make sure that Robin was comfortable. The logs were ablaze in minutes, and soon the warmth from the fire spread in the room.

After Djaq finished her ministrations, she gave her patient some sleeping draught, hoping that Robin would sleep till the early morning without suffering from nightmares. And she was right: it was one of the few nights when Robin was able to relax and sleep peacefully, without turning and turning on his bed and moaning quietly. Good rest was necessarily for him, and it was health-giving too, for he had a long day tomorrow, when he intended to meet with his wife after months of separation.

§§§

Next morning, Robin awoke when the rays of pale sun cast ghostly reflections on the walls. He slept for about nine hours, and this singular thing astonished him. He wasn't unaccustomed to sleep for so long! A joyous ray of the winter sun entered the chamber through the small window and touched his face. He stretched his body across the linen sheets and thanked God that there was no pain in his stomach; Djaq was an excellent physician, and he was happy that she didn't stay in Acre with Bassam.

After a quick breakfast, Robin, Archer, and Carter rode from Mazères to Château de Roquetaillade. It was again raining heavily, and the weather manifestly worsened today; their hoods somehow were a poor shelter for their heads from the rain. The drumming of the rain dinned their ears, which was especially irritable after the calm and warm night. They dismounted and tethered their horses to trees on the edge of the forest, bordering with the gardens of the château.

"It is great that we are not soaked to the bone," Carter said petulantly.

Archer frowned. "It has been raining since dawn, and it seems that it is not going to stop."

Robin smiled knowingly. "It is often raining in the southern lands at this time of the year. It will be raining throughout the whole day, for the clouds are dark with storm," he predicted. "The best time for enjoying charms of Aquitaine and tasting great wines in the region of Bordeaux is late spring and summer, when wines are blooming, or mid-September, which is a harvest time."

"You know the weather in this region so well, Robin?" Archer sounded amazed.

"Yes," Robin said.

"Robin had a knighthood training in Aquitaine. He also lived here for some time," Carter elucidated.

Robin poured out some funny tales about his adventurers in the woods of Poitou while hunting there with King Richard, and snickers tittered through the group. Then a long, light silence ensued as they immersed themselves into scrutinizing their surroundings.

Archer eyed the château in a distance. "Robin, does your beautiful wife live here?"

Robin gave a nod. "She came here from the court in Poitiers."

"This is so very amazing, Robin!" Archer exclaimed. "You are the Earl of Huntingdon and Count de Bordeaux! You are a lord of such vast and rich lands! Your fortune is great, and you are twice as rich as a nabob. Not every Eastern vizier or sheikh has so many lands and so many vassals."

Carter laughed. "And now you will say that Robin must be the Shah of Persia, travelling incognito."

"Yeah, I will probably be richer than Saladin in my next life," Robin quibbled, speaking in a heartsinking voice. He swallowed hard, and his expression morphed into gloom as his mind meandered over the events of the years when he hadn't been in England and his people had starved to death. "One big correction – these lands in Aquitaine are not mine – they are my wife's," he pointed out. "And presently I am not as rich as the Huntingdons used to be once."

Archer turned to Robin and inquired, "Why?"

Robin sighed; it was a painful theme, for it was he who had deserted his people for long years. "The people, who live in my lands – in Huntingdon, Locksley, and my other estates – experienced many misfortunes while I fought in the Holy Land. My own riches were depleted because of Prince John's unbearable taxation and because of Sheriff Vaisey's reign of terror and brutality in Nottingham."

"I confess, my dear brother," Archer observed, "that I have some difficulty in comprehending your possible objection to being married to a young lady who is both wealthy and beautiful."

Robin smiled tensely, although his skin prickled with guilt: he had nothing to complain about as he was married to the rich royal lady, who loved him and was one of the most extraordinary females of their epoch. "I married Melisende out of loyalty to the king, but this union turned out to something much more interesting than a political marriage or a marriage of convenience."

Archer guffawed. "It is great, brother!"

"So how are we getting inside the château without being seen?" Carter asked.

Robin pulled his hood over his face. "I have half a plan," he used his trademark expression, his eyes twinkling. "Follow me to the back door of the palace. I promise that nobody will see us."

They made their way through the forest and the deserted part of the winter garden, passing numerous buildings, each of them vying with each other for elegance of design and magnificence of construction. Soon they were in the heart of the large garden, where wide-spreading bare trees raised their heads high to the leaden sky, rivaling in their height to the walls of a solid rampart.

The garden was covered with snow, and they regretted that it was the winter now, for every spring the garden blossomed in green colors of young leaves on trees and in a profusion of delicate pink, white, blue, violet, orange, and white flowers, which were scattered across lawns in large stone vases that stood near every bench and every fountain. They passed through two vast terraces and another small garden undetected, having met only a few servants.

They slipped into the château through the back door and hurried to hide, slowly walking through the first floor and hiding in the alcoves from the servants, all of whom were fussing and hurrying somewhere, with the steward screaming to bring more fresh towels and bowls of water in Countess de Bordeaux's apartments. It was when Robin realized what was going on – he arrived when his wife was giving birth to his first child. Robin smiled smugly to himself, thinking that he always appeared out of nowhere, when nobody expected him, and usually in time to see some dramatic events.

Robin, Archer, and Carter came through a long corridor absolutely freely and arrived in the great hall with monumental gothic staircase in the center. They concealed themselves behind the corner as several servants hastened up the staircase, discussing something in Occitan.

On the whitewashed walls in the great hall, many portraits and paintings shone splendidly in the brilliant light of the chamber; they were mainly the portraits of the people from the Plantagenet house and the House de Vermandois, from which Melisende's mother descended. The heavy walnut furniture consisted of several rows of high-back chairs set at intervals against the walls and a long massive table, which was used during official grand feasts in the castle.

Robin dropped to one knee, took his new recurved bow off of his shoulders, and drew an arrow from his quiver. He scanned the hall, his gaze lingering on the candelabrum that hung from the ceiling. He laughed, making up his mind how to celebrate his return.

Carter stared at Robin in bewilderment. "Robin, what are you going to do?"

Robin winked at Carter cheekily. "Robin Hood has returned home. Let's have some fun."

Archer caught Robin's gaze. The great antique candelabrum hung from the ceiling in the center of the hall, with sconces for nearly a hundred candles; it was ornamented with glittering crystal pendants. It was hooked to the ceiling by a long jeweled chain. The candelabrum was also adorned with intricate arabesques of leaves, fruits, and flowers, each of them enriched by colored glass.

"Oh, my God! I like this so much! I like this!" Archer fell into excitement and emotional inspiration; he patted Robin's shoulder fondly.

Like Robin, Archer removed his own recurved bow from his shoulders. He took an arrow from his quiver and then knelt near Robin. Robin and Archer smiled, winking and nodding at each other.

"Two mischief-makers," Carter retorted as he realized what they were going to do.

"It will distract their attention from us. We will be able to sneak upstairs unheeded," Robin explained his plan as he fired an arrow at the candelabrum.

"I love it," Archer murmured as he shot an arrow next instance after Robin did the same.

The two arrows whizzed in the air and struck the rope that tied the candelabrum to the ceiling. The shots were performed with uncanny accuracy: the arrows hit the rope with a distance less than one each from one another. Next instant, the candelabrum tumbled to the floor with such a wallop that the walls and the glass in the windows trembled.

"Lads," Robin addressed them in a blithesome voice, "it is wonderful to be a renowned marksman."

"It's over!" Archer gasped, chuckling and fighting the urge to laugh uproariously.

"Robin, you are ruining your own property." Carter was unable to suppress a laugh.

Robin shrugged. "Well, we needed some distraction, and we got it."

The servants ran to the great hall. At the entrance, they paused and stood rooted, openmouthed as they saw the candelabrum on the floor. The arrows were lost among the shatters of glass.

"What is this?" one of the servants asked in Norman-French.

"What is happening?" a young servant girl questioned.

"Interesting," Robin whispered. "Some servants talk in Occitan and some in Norman-French."

"I noticed that the same," Archer agreed.

The steward ordered to go to the kitchens and take bowls of water and other things to clean the great hall. The servants disappeared like shadows, hurrying to obey the orders of the strict steward. Soon they hurried and scurried about the hall and the kitchens; a hustle was here and there. The guests seized their chance to sneak upstairs in the moment when everyone was out of the chamber.

"This is the unconditional surrender of the servants," Archer mocked. "Now we may go."

Robin grinned knavishly. "Let's go, lads."

They climbed the grand staircase and found themselves in a long corridor with whitewashed walls hung with lovely paintings. They passed through a large living room and several reception rooms, and as they get to an enormous vaulted hall, they heard loud female moans from the chamber in the tower. They shared worried glances, but Robin grinned cockily and explained what he had overheard in Occitan; his friends smiled and congratulated him.

They opted to hide somewhere and wait until the moans quieted and Melisende's labor ordeal was over. They passed through another corridor and opened the door of what seemed to be a study room, which was the last chamber in the corridor that led to the tower rooms.

In the master bedroom located in the highest tower of the château, Lady Melisende Plantagenet was in labor. She lay on her luxurious bed, pallid and drenched in a cold sweat, surrounded by her ladies-in-waiting, who tried to help their mistress as much as they could. They unbraided Melisende's hair so there would be no bindings to tie the baby in the womb, which was one of the midwives' old tales; Melisende's thick and tangled red-gold strands streamed over shoulders and back.

"Wait a little more, Lady Melisende," the midwife said cheerfully, wiping her hands with a towel after examining her patient. "Bound to be a boy, they always cause a lot of trouble."

Melisende closed her eyes, gritting her teeth in pain. She was in labor for more than ten hours, and she was utterly exhausted, unable to push anymore. Throughout the night and morning, the contractions became more frequent and painful. She thought that women, who had birthed at least one child, could ascend the mountain of Olympus, for she had never thought that it was so painful and extremely difficult to give birth to a child. She wondered how Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine had delivered eleven children – ten legitimate children and one illegitimate son – Robin.

"_Mon Dieu! _I cannot endure this pain anymore!" Melisende screamed. A contraction started low in her spine, and pain bloomed through her lower body, causing her to gasp. "I just cannot endure it!"

"You must," the midwife said strictly. "For your child."

Lady Catherine de Mathefelon, one of her ladies-in-waiting, managed a large smile; she put a hand on Melisende's forehead. "Lady Melisende, you have to push," she coaxed.

Melisende wailed as another wave of pain hit her. "It hurts so much! It hurts too much!"

"Lady Melisende, be patient. Childbirth is always painful, especially given that it is your first child," the midwife said as she approached the bed. She placed her hands onto Melisende's swollen stomach to feel the position of the child in the belly of the future mother. "It should be over soon."

"I cannot push anymore!" Melisende screamed. Her heart almost collapsed as a new wave of strong and sharp pain slashed through her. "I am being serious: I cannot endure this anymore!"

"Lady Melisende, don't say such things! Think of Sir Robin – it is his child," Catherine de Mathefelon admonished. "He would have wanted you to be brave and courageous for yourself and your baby."

Melisende groaned and gripped Catherine's hand as a stronger tide of pain assaulted her. "I cannot understand how Aunt Eleanor had so many children," she whispered so quietly that her voice vibrated in her chest. She raised her voice and began to grumble as the pain shot through her, "Poor women! Sometimes I would have given up everything to be a man!"

Her ladies-in-waiting giggled over her joke, but the midwife scolded them, and a hushed quiet fell over them. As Melisende broke into wails and little screams of pain, they started fussing over their mistress, trying to help her in all possible ways. Bowls and bowls of hot water were brought to the chamber. Then a young servant girl reported to Catherine that the candelabrum had fallen in the great hall.

"What happened?" Melisende asked as she noticed the frightened faces of her ladies.

"Nothing interesting, my lady," Catherine hurried to allay her mistress.

Melisende wasn't conscious of the passing minutes. She only knew that the pain was unbearable and that she was dying from it. She was still experiencing contractions, but she no longer cried out at the top of her lungs; she only groaned quietly, looking at her ladies with wide-open frightened violet eyes. She was too worn-out to produce any sounds and even to think. She didn't want to die, praying to God to deliver a child before her soul departed to Heaven.

"I have been praying every day to give birth to a healthy child since I learnt about my pregnancy," Melisende confessed, her voice laced with a desperate anguish. "I wanted so much to have a piece of Robin, but never, even in my wildest dreams, had I imagined that it will be so terrible!"

"You had a difficult pregnancy, my lady," Constance de Toucy, another lady-in-waiting, stated. "The tragedy with Sir Robin broke your heart and drained all your strength." She wiped the sweat from Melisende's brow. "But you are stronger than other women. You will survive through all the hardships."

"Aunt Eleanor is under house arrest in England, while Richard vanished like smoke," Melisende said. Her expression was really tormented and afflicted. "Maybe my cousin is already dead, like Robin."

"Lady Melisende, don't think of these troubles right now," Catherine persuaded her mistress in soothing tones. "As soon as you have your baby in your arms, you will be the happiest woman on earth."

The labor continued for another hour, and the contractions grew stronger and more frequent. The next contraction wrung Melisende in its grip, and the midwife urged her to push harder. The pain was twisting and tearing her insides, but Melisende gritted her teeth and pushed, trying to give life to the child of her beloved husband. And then, to everyone's relief, the midwife signaled to the ladies, assisting her, that they were nearly done and only a few minutes remained until the birth.

"Do you have a name, my lady?" Catherine asked, her voice quiet and soft.

"Robin for a boy and Eleanor for a girl," Melisende declared through clenched her teeth.

A new, eminently powerful contraction surged through the king's cousin, and she bit her lips so as not to cry out, but she still screamed violently, feeling compelled to push harder. All at once, Melisende felt her body empty, and then the midwife announced that it was over. Propped on her elbows, Melisende shifted on the bed and stared at the baby lying next to her like a shipwrecked dead sailor. Fear gripped her entire being, and panic shot through her as the child wasn't wailing and wasn't moving.

"It is a baby boy," the midwife stated.

"He isn't crying," Constance chocked the words out, her throat closing up, her face horrified.

"Oh, my God! Is he… dead?" Catherine's hand covered her mouth to keep from sobbing loudly.

"_Mon Dieu! _No, not this!" Melisende shrieked in horror in spite of being played-out; she was unable to control her emotions. "Good cannot be so cruel to me! He cannot take my child from me!"

The midwife lifted the baby by the ankles and swung him gently. A shudder rippled through the baby's tiny body, and a wail of protest coursed through the air, quiet and uncertain at first, but then louder and louder. The ladies sighed with relief and crossed themselves.

The midwife turned to Melisende, a smile spreading across her wrinkled face. "The baby is just so stubborn that it just needed an awful bit of persuading to start crying; now he is alright."

Melisende smiled flamboyantly, the first brilliant smile in months. "Is he healthy?"

"Yes. He is strong and healthy," the midwife said with satisfaction as she took the child in her arms. "I was right – it is a boy. I always know whom a woman would have."

Melisende shut her eyes as an exorbitant sense of relief engulfed her, as if a heavy burden had been removed from her heart. She gazed out the window, smiling brightly. The rain stopped, and some thin, bleak rays of sunlight squeezed between the thick cloud coverage to warm the winter gardens. She thought that it was a good omen that the rain stopped when her son gave his first cry of life. She didn't know that yet, but it was indeed a good omen, for Robin was very close.

Melisende's ladies-in-waiting rushed to her and helped her change her nightgown. As they finished, they helped Melisende sit up in the bed, putting a pillow under her head and several pillows around her. They took away the sheets stained with her blood and swiftly cleaned the chamber. The midwife swaddled the baby boy, and soothed him to the point that he calmed down and now was cooing.

Meanwhile, Robin was sauntering towards the master bedroom. He mounted the stairs that led to the tower, and then emerged in a long arched corridor. He had already figured out the location of Melisende's apartments. He stalked through the corridor with entrances to several bedrooms and a spacious living room in the same tower; he was stunned with the grandeur and lavishness of his wife's residence. He felt his heart beating as fast as it hadn't beaten for many months; then his heart somersaulted in his chest at the thought that Melisende and his child were probably not alright.

Robin noiselessly opened the door of the bedchamber, pleased that it didn't crack, for the sound would have negated his surprise. Standing at the doorway, he roamed his eyes over the bedchamber.

The room was decorated in the magnificent and opulent style. Robin smiled at the sight of the walls that were not whitewashed but were hung with ivory and gold brocade. Many ivory and gold tapestried couches and delicately carved high-back chairs were placed on ivory and gold Aubusson carpets. The chamber was illuminated by several pale and antique lamps that dangled from the walls. In the center of the room, there was Melisende's great bed that was rendered entirely in expensive walnut and boasted with crossmatched walnut panels flanked by a pair of marble carved columns on each corner. The bed was covered in ivory and gold tapestry, and Robin saw Melisende lying there.

The midwife laughed, looking at the child. "This boy is very handsome," she said truthfully. "He has high cheekbones and a mass of downy hairy of wheat color on his head!"

Melisende felt tears sting her eyes. Tears of happiness and relief welling up in her eyes, she found her voice choked with the deepest and exuberant emotion as she commented, "He has his father's hair." She opened arms, looking at the midwife. "Give him to me. Give my Robin to me."

Robin chuckled at the thought that it was a great moment for his resurrection. His heart was drumming a maddening beat as he fought frantically to get his wildly careening senses and his ample emotions over control. He took a deep breath and smiled to himself: he was ready to come back from the dead.

* * *

><p><em>I hope you truly enjoyed this chapter and the plot.<em>

_Megan and Guy finally met each other! I hope that you liked the scene of their first meeting in the dungeons. It took me a lot of time to write their first conversation because I wanted to convey many emotions there: Megan's shock that Guy of Gisborne of all the men in Nottingham is her savior and Guy's shock as well. Megan is not afraid of Guy, like she is not fearful of many other things._

_The twists and turns in this story made Guy realize how wrong his path was and how bad he really was when he served the sheriff, and now he wants to redeem himself. His reaction to the news about King Richard's capture is very important to understand the depths of changes in Guy. You probably noticed that Guy is genuinely aggrieved to learn that Richard lost his freedom and is not coming back to England anytime soon. Guy isn't as selfish as he was before: he is very concerned about Megan's fate, for she is another innocent who may lose her life because of Prince John's ambitions to take the crown._

_Robin and his friends returned to the Angevin Empire only to learn that King Richard hadn't made it home safely and had disappeared somewhere in the Mediterranean Sea. Of course, Robin is extremely nervous and is full of anxiety and trepidation at the thought that Richard could have been killed. But at least Robin has a surprise – he arrives in Melisende's estates on the day of his son's birth. Robin's resurrection is going to happen in the next chapter when he meets with Melisende. _

**_Reviews are always appreciated, including well-grounded criticism._**

_If you find any typos and/or mistakes here, please let me know about them in a private message. _

_Thank you for reading this chapter. Have a lovely weekend._

_Yours faithfully, Penelope Clemence_


	18. Chapter 17 Resurrection of the Hero

**Chapter 17**

**Resurrection of the Hero**

The sound of someone clearing their throat drew every pair of eyes in the bedchamber to a slender man of average height, who watched them from the doorway. He wore a heavy cloak of double-layered dark green velvet, and his hood was pulled over his face. His cloak was completely unfastened, revealing his green brocade tunic, a jeweled belt on his waist and a golden, sheathed Saracen scimitar that hung at his waist. There was a full quiver of arrows on his back, except for one arrow which Robin had already used in the great hall. Despite the heavy drizzle outside, he managed to stay quite dry.

Melisende felt as if she were floating in the air instead of sitting on her bed. She couldn't believe that all her prayers and hopes could be answered so perfectly. Her heart was beating faster, so fast that it seems that any moment now it would jump out of her chest and break her ribcage. She could recognize her beloved departed husband in a huge crowd. But she knew that he was dead, and he couldn't stand in the same room at the moment!

"I think that we should name our son Richard after our beloved king," the newcomer said in excellent Norman-French, without any accent. He chuckled under the hood and then said facetiously, "Having two Robins would be a great disaster for us."

"This is impossible," Melisende murmured in a tremulous voice, her eyes darting between her child in her arms and Robin who continued standing in the doorway. "This is impossible…"

Robin laughed; then he folded his arms over his chest. "I see that I returned home in time."

The midwife scowled. "Who are you, milord? What are you doing here?" she questioned, her face contorting in righteous anger. "By Christ, you should leave now! Leave this chamber right now!"

Catherine de Mathefelon and Constance de Toucy shuddered as the incredible realization dawned upon them. Constance shook her head in shock, thinking that she was probably hallucinating; but if it was really the moment of Robin Hood's resurrection, then she had to make a report to Prince John urgently. Catherine stared at the hooded man in disbelief, but a tiny smile curled her lips: she found it hard to believe that her former lover was alive, and yet she could see him in the same room.

Still standing at the doorway and watching the beautiful, heart-warming picture of his wife cradling their son in her arms, Robin tilted his head to one side and said, "Oh, Melisende, please don't tell me that you are not happy to see me!" He sounded heartsore and almost betrayed, though he was smiling under his hood. "If you still consider me a ghost, then can a ghost ask… at least for one kiss?"

"Get out of this chamber! Get out of here!" the midwife shouted.

Melisende directed an incredulous stare at Robin. "Leave him be. You don't know who he is."

Robin promenaded across the chamber and stopped near his wife's bed, then landed on the edge. He pulled down his hood, revealing a striking mane of thick sandy-colored hair that was still as impishly cut as before; a local barber in Marseilles had done his job very well, exactly in accordance with Robin's wishes. He glanced into Melisende's eyes and gave her the warmest and most charming smile which he had ever given to a woman, excluding to Marian at the moments when he had proposed to her twice.

Robin didn't think that he would be so phenomenally happy to see his wife again. His heart began to thud with a warm joy inside his chest. He felt emotions overwhelming him, gripping his heart so tightly that he almost lost his ability to breathe. Melisende was so enigmatic, so stunning, so feminine, and so beautiful, and she was even more beautiful than she had seemed to him in his dreams while he had been recovering in Jerusalem. _She was the queen of his dreams!_ Her gorgeous image – the image of immortal goddess of wit, doom, and beauty, with almond-shaped violet eyes and her long, glossy, red-gold hair streaming down her shoulders – almost superseded the image of the beautiful brunette – Marian of Knighton, whom Robin had loved for many, many years.

Melisende looked at Robin as if she were mesmerized, her heart thundering in her chest, almost suffocating her. Her excited cheeks become inflamed, and a flame ignited in her violet eyes and in her mind, heating her from the inside out. She fixed her gaze on Robin, who was smiling at her with an entrancing and nearly mind-blowing smile, which she loved so much. She saw a great deal of warmth, tenderness, and happiness in his pale blue eyes, and her heart hammered harder in joy.

_Her Robin was alive!_ If she had been alone in the chamber, she would have thought that she had gone mad. She didn't know what miracle returned Robin to the land of the living, but she was immensely happy as her most cherished dream had become true – her husband had resurrected.

"Lady Melisende, it is against all the rules that this man is staying here," the midwife grumbled.

Melisende shook her head. "I am not going to lose my beloved husband again, after I lost him in Acre." She choked down the tears welling in her low throat and in her eyes. "I don't know how it is possible, but God returned my Robin to me and to our son." She smiled brightly through tears, and her lips slightly parted as she whispered his name under her breath. "I am not going to let him leave us again!"

Robin nodded at Melisende and then took his son from her arms, marveling at the lovely perfection of the baby boy's chubby face and his small hands. He had never been a father before, but he had always liked children. Melisende showed him how to hold the infant, and he complied to her instructions, thanking her with a tender smile on his face. Soon Robin was already holding their son, carefully supporting the boy's head and cradling his head in the crook of his arm.

Robin smiled as his newborn son who stared at him with wide-open, intelligent eyes. He had never thought that a feeling of having his own child was such a sheer perfection. When he had seen Melisende with his son in her arms, his emotions had peaked, and the vestiges of doom and pain had enveloped him. Then all his pain had been replaced by a feeling of otherworldly lightness and absolute happiness, as if something had cleared the fog of confusion, where he had been swimming through for so long. He could feel again – he could feel with all his heart the happiness of being reunited with his old life and with his wife. A violent storm of fierce emotions was changed by a wealth of the gentlest and most tender feelings, and then a sensation of tranquility overtook him.

"Your husband is dead, Lady Melisende," the midwife intervened, taken aback. "He tragically died a hero's death in Acre, saving King Richard's life."

Robin turned his gaze at the midwife. "Why cannot I come back from the dead?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with imps of mischief. "Death is one of the most innocent jokes among very many other bad jokes." He chuckled. "Isn't my sudden resurrection a better joke than my death in Acre?"

"But how is that possible?" The midwife's wrinkled face was becoming increasingly pale.

Robin laughed at them, his eyes never leaving his son's face. "Wait! Did you forget that I am Robin Hood?" He would have theatrically outstretched his arms if he didn't have the child in his arms. "I will tell you something. Robin Hood can accomplish miracles! Working wonders is Robin Hood's destiny!"

The old woman's eyes widened. "What? Robin Hood is here?"

Melisende and her ladies-in-waiting broke into quiet giggles and snickering.

"Of course, I am Robin Hood," Robin proclaimed proudly, his prancing smile on his face.

Melisende smiled merrily, her eyes glowing in happiness and dancing with the imps of mischief. If she hadn't been so tired after her labor and wasn't overwhelmed by emotions, she would have laughed until her body hurt and her breathing changed to gasping, wheezing gulps for air. Her ladies giggled too, swept into a mischievous mood by Robin's good spirits.

Melisende swung her gaze to the midwife. "Let me introduce my husband – Sir Robert James Fitzooth of Locksley, the Earl of Huntingdon and Count de Bordeaux," she announced with a large smile on her face. It sounded so unusual to her that she had to introduce her presumably deceased husband.

Robin smirked; she called him Robert instead of Robin, and he knew that she did that on purpose. "Yeah, I am Robin, Robin Hood and the Earl of Huntingdon," he corrected.

Melisende pursed her lips, her expression serious, but her eyes were knavish. "Robert," she teased.

"I am sorry… I am…" the old woman stammered, and then she sank into an awkward curtsey.

"It is so lovely to meet you," Robin responded nonchalantly, giving the midwife a supercilious glare in revenge for her rudeness. "Thank you for helping my wife to deliver my son into the world."

"You are… most… welcome, Lord… Huntingdon," the midwife stuttered as she took in her lord's handsome features. Her voice was unsteady, and a blush of embarrassment suffused her cheeks.

Melisende touched her husband's forearm, and Robin moved his gaze from their son to her. "Robin, how did you come to the château? Has someone seen you here?"

Robin gave a laugh. "Melisende, I beg your pardon for causing… some trouble in the great hall." His expression was a cameo of feigned guilt. "I had to sacrifice something in order not to be discovered in the commotion that escalated after the fall of a heavy object from the ceiling to the floor."

"The candelabrum," Catherine de Mathefelon said shortly, her lips lengthening in a smile.

Robin shrugged light-heartedly. "I am sorry, Melisende. I had to come here undetected, and I needed to distract everyone's attention by ruining our property – by shooting at the rope that hooked the candelabrum to the ceiling." He looked almost apologetic, but his smile was smug. "I resolved to celebrate my return by wreaking havoc. After all, I am the best marksman in the Angevin Empire."

Catherine and Constance smiled in response, for they had already gotten accustomed to Robin's dry humor. The midwife was clearly struck dumb with Robin's uncommon manners.

Melisende smiled joyfully at the midwife. "Don't worry. It is a normal behavior for your dear lord. Robin has always been a man of delightfully pleasing manners that entertain everyone and even himself."

Robin touched his son's cheek, smiling gibingly. "Ladies, I have extravagant and palatable manners that are impeccable, pleasing and courteous, yet arrogant and at times annoying. If you get to know me better, you will see that I am an unforgettable man in everything I do." He choked back a laugh as the boy's small hand half-clasped his wrist. "My manners surely charm away evil spirits and designs against kings, queens, and their cousins, so you are safe with me."

"You haven't changed at all, Robin," Melisende noted.

His trademark cocky grin spread across his face. "And why should I?"

"No, you should never change, Robin of Locksley," Robin Hood's wife retorted with a hearty smile. "It would be such a grotesque waste of great talents otherwise."

"Let's name our son Richard," Robin offered. "If we have two Robins, there will be a great trouble." He grinned. "I was a naughty and often even wild child. He will be like me."

"I agree. Let him be Richard." The violet eyes sparkled and gazed eagerly at Robin. "After all, I cannot have a kingdom where the two disobedient Robins live – I don't believe that I can handle two Robins. That's enough that we have one Robin and two Richards in our country now."

Robin took a deep breath to calm the frantic beating of his heart, for the thoughts of King Richard and his disappearance inflicted almost inhuman pain on his heart. "Great! Our kingdom will be difficult to rule, my dear wife, but I am sure that you will cope with this task very well." He winked at her.

Melisende winked back at him, her gaze oscillating between her husband and their son. "Robin, our son has your hair." She pointed a finger at the mass of downy sandy-colored hair on the boy's small head.

Robin placed a soft kiss on the baby's head. "Yes, he has taken it after me."

As the ladies-in-waiting and the midwife hastened to leave Robin and Melisende together with their son, Robin raised a hand to prevent them from walking out of the bedchamber. He passed the child to Melisende, and then walked towards the other women who paused near the door.

Robin stopped beside the three women and perused them. "Now listen to me very carefully," he began. "I was at Queen Eleanor's court in Poitiers, and I know all the grievous news of the past months."

Melisende lifted a brow. "You already know?"

Robin gave a slight nod, sighing deeply. "Yes, I do." His gaze flew to his wife's ladies-in-waiting and the midwife. "I know that Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine was arrested in England five months ago. I know that our king was lost somewhere in the Mediterranean Sea about three months ago." His face was blank, but his lugubrious eyes unveiled his pain. "Given the extent of political uncertainty after the king's disappearance and the queen arrest, I strictly prohibit you from uttering a word about my survival."

Every pair of astonished eyes was on Robin. Melisende nodded her agreement.

"But why is it so necessary, if I may ask you, Lord Huntingdon?" Catherine de Mathefelon was bolder than the others, and she knew Robin better as well.

"It is very important to keep my return a secret until a suitable moment," Robin enlightened in a calm voice that was stern and authoritative, leaving no room for objection. "In Acre, I almost died because I had to sacrifice my own life to save the king." He surveyed them thoughtfully, his expression giving no hint of the tumult in his mind at the memory of his death in Imuiz. "I really died: I wasn't breathing, and my heart wasn't beating. I was really dead, but then I came back from the dead."

"Bless my soul!" Melisende exclaimed in shock. Little Richard stirred and whimpered, as if he could feel that his father was telling a sad story about his afflictions in Acre. She cradled the child to her chest, and he calmed down.

"It is true," Robin confirmed in a chilly voice that cut through the air like cold steel of a blade. "I died and then came back, and I didn't give any signs that I was alive for quite some time." He sighed. "My heart was beating so slowly and my breathing was so shallow that nobody in Imuiz could have understood that I was alive. Then my unconscious body was lost in a heavy sandstorm."

Robin sighed heavily and then was quiet for a moment, lost in a private thought. He was puzzled with his own ability to keep calmness and coolness while speaking about his own death. However, in reality he was calm only outwardly, for the consequences of his near-death experience – his confusion and his disillusionment – were worse than a physical pain at his core. With effort, he forced himself to stop thinking of his personal tragedy, and his mind drifted towards achievement, winning, and whatever else made him proud of himself and gave him more confidence. All at once, he felt that he was pleased that his today's irony and boldness stunned everyone in the room, excluding his wife.

"But someone found you and nursed you back to life, Robin?" Melisende suggested.

"Yes," Robin replied with an audible sigh.

"And you must have been very sick," Melisende assumed. In reality, Robin's tale resulted in the thunder of raging emotions inside her as feelings of pain and anxiety penetrated her heart, and she was also aware of the throbbing beat of her heart.

"It is true," Robin said with dreadful calmness. "I am still recovering, but I will be alright in some time."

Melisende crossed herself. "Thanks to God that you are alive, Robin."

"It was God's will, as Saladin and his nephew, Prince Malik, told me," Robin opined; he had already started to believe in the words spoken to him by the wise people whom he respected a lot.

"How did you get to Saladin?" Melisende's eyes glowed with amusement.

"I was recovering in Jerusalem," Robin replied shortly. "I will tell you everything later."

"Of course, Robin." Melisende touched her son's cheek for a brief moment.

"We have digressed from the main topic a lot." Robin eyed the surroundings with narrowed eyes, as if he were looking for hidden enemies there. "I was very close to death for many months, and I could have departed from this word any day and any night."

"Lord Huntingdon, we are very happy that you are alive," Constance supplied with fake cheerfulness.

Robin's comment drew a cordial smile from Catherine. "It is so good that you survived, Sir Robin."

"Listen to him," Melisende commanded, understanding that Robin had something else to say.

Robin's face was as dispassionate as it had been when he had started the conversation, but this time there was a hint of something that constituted a real threat beneath the surface should anyone dare scratch it. "I believe that God spared my life for a reason, and I am not going to waste it in vain," he professed. "And if I have to die for my king again, I will do it willingly, but not in the situation when I may be betrayed by someone who wants to make money and make the most out of King Richard's troubles and out of my own troubles which I will have to overcome in order to find and save the king from Prince John." His eyes glittered with danger. "I think you suspect what I mean."

Catherine, Constance, and the midwife flinched visibly, for they didn't expect that the handsome young man, whom had just charmed them, could be so ruthless and so dangerous just in a moment.

Melisende smiled at Robin, being quite surprised with his pragmatism. "Robin, do you wish to stay dead so far, so that we can use it to our advantage and devise a plan to find Richard?"

"Precisely," Robin retorted meaningfully. Then he put a hand on the hilt of his scimitar. "The Queen Mother was arrested at Prince John order, and I suspect that the prince plotted against King Richard during my absence." He tightened his grip on the hilt, running eyes over the three frightened women. "Now a warning: if one of you dares utter a word about my survival or tries to spy on me or my wife for Prince John, I won't hesitate to kill you with my own sword."

Catherine blinked, and her hands trembled. "It is clear, milord," she replied curtly.

Constance shook her head, as if in agreement. "Of course, sire."

"As you wish, my lord. Rest assured that we won't forget your warning." The midwife dropped her eyes, unable to withstand the intensity of Robin's gaze.

"As for you, Lady Constance, your case is special," Robin recommended, narrowing his eyes at the young woman. "I remember that you were Prince John's mistress." He paused to let his words sink in her head. When he resumed speaking, his voice was low, hissing through his clenched teeth like a snake. "Once I was deceived by Lady Isabella of Gisborne, Prince John's lover and his spy, who participated in the regicide attempt together with Sheriff Vaisey and whose grand charade clouded the judgment of almost everyone in Imuiz." He again trailed off, regarding them with cold eyes. He took a wheezing breath and said, "If Lady Isabella hadn't conspired with Vaisey, this murderer would have already been detained and publicly executed, not killed by Guy of Gisborne. And if not for Lady Isabella's treacherous actions, I wouldn't have been so grievously wounded."

"Isabella of Gisborne deserves to die," Melisende added impatiently, her blood boiling with hatred.

Robin was still holding Constance's gave. His jaw tensed as anger rose in him like a firestorm. "It is not in our jurisdiction to decide on Isabella of Gisborne's fate, but if she tries to kill one of us or worse the king, I won't hesitate to take her life." His lips twitched ever so slightly, and he pressed them together tightly as rage boiled in his veins. "I don't like killing people, especially my own countrymen. Really, I hate it." He dragged a deep breath. "But I can clearly see now that my humanity caused my own death in Acre. I could have killed Vaisey many times in Nottingham, but I allowed him to live, thinking that it was better to deal with a known demon than with an unknown one." He raised his chin. "I was too forgiving towards certain traitors, but now I am willing to get rid of them."

Melisende gazed away. She was stunned how much Robin had changed during the months when of their separation. He was disillusioned – he was no longer as idealistic as he had been when she had married him in Acre. This new Robin had a steely, pragmatic side, and she contemplated these changes with interest. Her husband was still unwilling to take a human life unless it was strictly necessarily, but he had also realized that bloodshed was inevitable in real life. She was pleased with her findings, but she also experienced the aching pain raking her through her, as if her heart had been torn out of her chest and stomped on at the realization of how much Robin had suffered after his death.

"I am not going to betray you, Lord Huntingdon," Constance managed to say before her throat closed with fear. "I am bereft that King Richard hasn't arrived home safety so far."

Robin's expression softened a little bit. "It is good that you are so worried about our king." His voice sounded friendly now. "Don't be afraid of me. I am an amicable companion and a generous lord." He gave them a reassuring, charming smile. "But only for those who don't betray me."

Melisende quickly glanced over the three women. "You heard what Robin told you. Remember his words very well." Her voice was deadly soft, her face was serene, but her eyes warned everyone about danger. "Take my child and leave me with my husband. No word to the servants that I am not alone."

"My friend and my brother are in the study," Robin stated. "Bring some refreshment for them, please." He smiled at the ladies, knowing that he had scared them a lot.

Catherine de Mathefelon took a child from Melisende's arms, granting a cautious smile to Robin and her mistress. Constance de Toucy plastered a tiny, forced smile on her face; she was really frightened. The midwife looked indifferent, but she tended to think that their new lord was an enigmatic man; she took his warning for granted, comprehending how fiercely loyal Robin was to King Richard.

"Light candles in the chamber," Melisende requested, her eyes on Robin's face.

§§§

Catherine and Constance lit the candles in the master bedchamber, smiling nearly shyly at the reunited spouses. They also took the baby boy to his nursery, where he would soon be fed by his wet-nurse.

In a few moments, Robin and Melisende remained alone. Robin shifted on the bed to be closer to his fie; he was looking into her eyes, his own eyes twinkling in delight at the thought that they finally were together, away from the prying eyes of the others. His gaze became heated as he scanned her face, his focus finally coming to rest on her eyes. Melisende held Robin's gaze, her own alternating emotions of disbelief, amazement, delight, and happiness flashing over her face. A whirlwind of emotions battling inside her was suddenly too much to contain, and she burst into tears of relief and happiness.

Deeply moved by Melisende's tears, Robin leaned towards her and trapped her by planting his hands on her shoulders. Then he crushed his mouth on her full lips. He kissed her gently at first, with innate tenderness and devotion, and she instantly knew that it was reality and that he was not dead, and she couldn't imagine having a better day in her whole life. They kissed until they both were breathless and overwhelmed by magic sensations, feeling as if they were flying and were no longer in flesh.

Robin broke the kiss and drew away slightly. "I love you," he murmured into her mouth, gazing in her eyes. He spoke in a velvety voice, and sincerity was written all over his face and in his expressive eyes. His emotions were unguarded, and his heart was open to her at that very moment.

He told Melisende what he really felt for her. He was confused with own feelings in the wake of his near-death experience, but his heart was hammering so hard at the mere sound of his wife's name that he knew that his already existing, fraught awareness of loving Melisende while fearing that he could be wrong was rapidly replaced by the combined acceptance of his destiny and his belief in his feelings. His heart swelled with deep love and lust for her, and the longing to tell her how he felt was rising during their conversation until he knew that he could suppress it no more. And then he confessed.

Relishing in his impassioned embrace, Melisende stared at his frank and awaiting expression; her eyes went wide, and a feeling of panic rose inside her. "Why are you telling me this, Robin?"

Melisende blushed and in an instant turned pale. Her heart began to thump. A thousand times since their wedding, she visualized Robin confessing his love to her, for she had fallen in love with him when he had courted her in Acre and later had resigned herself to loving him with an unrequited love. But then the dream of being with him in spite of not having his heart had tragically died in Imuiz. She had prepared herself for perpetual loneliness after his death, and now Robin was so close to her, saying the words which she had never dreamt of hearing from him.

"It is true," he answered.

Not giving her a chance to speak, Robin kissed Melisende again, and this time it was a more possessive and hungrier kiss than the kisses they had shared today. His hands moved down to her waist, and he pulled her closer to him as he deepened the kiss that was one of the most magnificent things they had ever experienced before. He parted from her only when she was too breathless to continue responding to his sensual assault. She smiled at the thought that the skin of his hands wasn't as calloused as it had been in Acre when he had been using his bow and sword every day on training or on the battlefield.

Melisende looked hopeful, but she didn't dare believe that it was true. "What about Marian?"

"It is complicated," Robin responded truthfully. "I haven't forgotten Marian, but I cannot live without you. I was dreaming of meeting with you since I had regained my ability to think in Jerusalem."

"Robin," Melisende whispered against his mouth. "Oh, Robin…"

Looking in her eyes, Robin pulled her closer, holding her as tightly as he could, inhaling her luscious aroma. "I am going to be bluntly honest with you, Melisende." he pledged. "I loved Marian for many years, and there is a certain part of my heart that still loves her." He emitted a doleful sigh. "But the world and fate seemed to have aligned against Marian and me, and we just couldn't be together." He smiled sadly. "I thought that my heart was dead when she married Gisborne." He wiped a tear that ran from her eye with his thumb. "But you breathed a new life into my bleeding and wounded heart."

"Marian's marriage to Guy of Gisborne was annulled."

"Sir William de Longchamp told me about Marian's difficult situation – she was promised to the Earl of Buckingham by Sir Edward, her father," he said with a touch of disappointment in his voice. "But it doesn't matter anymore. Even if I weren't married to you, I wouldn't have chosen her over you. My time with Marian is in the past."

"What do you mean?"

"I loved Marian for many years, but she rejected me twice," he explained, his expression somewhat lachrymose. "But sometimes it is more than enough for you, and you cannot tolerate it anymore. I mean that there can be no third rejection because _my great and deep love for Marian has almost run out_, after all her lies and her confusion." He swallowed heavily. "As I said, there is a part of my heart that will always belong to Marian and to the great love we once shared, but our relationship is over." A feeling of bitterness slashed through his core. "I have to confess that I still regret that Marian and I were unable to understand one other, but I don't regret that I met you and married you, Melisende."

"You are so frank with me." She gazed away, staring at the wall. She appreciated his hurtful honesty very much, but his words also enkindled a flame of jealousy in her heart, and she was momentarily consumed by that flame, wondering whether Robin loved both Marian and her.

"I want to be honest because you deserve this, Melisende."

Melisende glanced back at him, and Robin could see the tears brimming in her eyes. She let out a deep breath and then spoke. "You cannot imagine how much your words mean to me, _my Robin_."

Robin smiled at her, and Melisende smiled back at him. His smile was wicked and yet tender, sending an icy-hot sensation up and down her spine. Her sensations were compounded by the delicious, shiver-inducing sweep of his long fingers caressing her cheek and her neck as they threaded into her long red-gold hair and cupped the back of her head.

Robin smiled alluringly. "I love you," he repeated.

"I love you, too, Robin," she said sincerely.

"Melisende, you are worthy of all the best things a man can give you in this life," he continued his passionate speech. "You are fearless, brave, honest, passionate, intelligent, clever, and beautiful. You are able to love with all your heart, and your great character proves your descent from that the race of goddesses who once gave birth to such great women as Eleanor of Aquitaine and you."

"And you, Robin, are my only soulmate, my second half," she announced, her hands lost in his sandy hair. "The love I have for you is very different from the love I could have felt for any other man. You are everything to me." She gave him a smile of profound tenderness, and then she carried his hand to her lips. "My love is very strong, and I know that you watched it grow during the short time of our marriage." She pressed him to herself. "And God permits you to take my heart and call it your own."

Robin felt guilty that he couldn't tell her that she was his kindred spirit. He was still confused and he didn't know what woman – Marian or Melisende – was his second half. Once he had believed that Marian was his kindred spirit, but the truth was that she didn't understand him in many aspects; she also didn't accept some of his convictions. Melisende comprehended him much better than Marian, and he needed her as much as any human being needed air to breathe. But he didn't forget Marian either. Maybe Marian and Melisende were _the two halves of his world_, he mused philosophically.

Robin sucked in a ragged breath, and then he kissed his wife with a long and deep kiss, a seducer's kiss. "If you weren't incapacitated after your labor, I would have taken you right now and here."

Her face became euphoric, and her lips stretched in a grin of satisfaction. "I fear that soon I will have to preserve myself from your passion." She shifted in his arms, feeling his hardness press against her hips. She wanted him so much that merely thinking about it made her lips burn for his another kiss.

He flashed a smile of pure wickedness. "You should never behave this way with me."

Robin told Melisende everything about his miraculous survival and the healing of his grave wound; she asked him to show his scar to her, but he refused categorically. He shared with her everything about the adventures in the desert and in the Bedouins' camp, as well as the story of his transportation by Archer to Jerusalem. Melisende was impressed with Archer's courage and his commitment to save Robin's life after his betrayal. She had already known from King Richard that Robin had a half-brother – Archer, and she admitted that she liked Archer much more than Guy even without knowing him.

During the next hour, they discussed the events in the Angevin Empire, trying to devise a plan to find King Richard and free Queen Eleanor from Pontefract Castle. As Prince John designated the coronation day in a few weeks, they had a little time to ponder over the recent happenings with the rightful King of England – they had to stop John from crowning himself and to oust him from power, as well as to preclude the Black Knights from taking over England. They also discussed how to find Guy of Gisborne and release Marian of Knighton and Roger de Lacy from their captivity in the Tower of London.

Robin smiled contentedly. "I am glad that the formerly disloyal vassals in Aquitaine swore their allegiance to us. I think that they will never side with Prince John again, even after my return, unless, of course, King Richard is… dead." His voice trembled at the last words.

Melisende breathed a sigh of grief. "Robin, what if Richard was assassinated?"

As he placed a hand on his heart, Robin declared in a heartfelt tone and with devilish confidence, "No, Richard is alive. I would have felt if he died."

"Have you already accepted the truth that Aunt Eleanor is your mother?"

Robin lowered his head. Perplexed, he was at a loss for words, and she brushed her fingers over his brow, trying to smooth the lines of worry on his forehead at the moment. He lifted his eyes to look at her, and she could see vulnerability written on his features.

"I have already accepted that Queen Eleanor is my mother," he said quietly, but his eyes were dark with uncertainty when he locked his gaze with hers again. "I was shocked when Richard told me the truth. I hated Eleanor and my father, and the only real thing seemed to be was my love for the king."

She put a hand on his forearm. "And now?"

Robin's lips twitched, as if he were attempting a smile. "I cannot say that I love the Queen Mother, but I am deeply grateful to her for everything she did for me. She had a difficult life, and she suffered too much due to King Henry's vengeful nature. And despite everything she survived through, she protected me as much as she could and in the ways she could – through Richard and Sir Edward."

"You changed a lot, Robin," she concluded.

He arched a brow. "Really?"

Melisende stroked the curly hair on the back of his neck. "Robin, you matured and learnt to accept reality, even if it is very painful for such an idealist as you once were." Her hand caressed a mane of his hair fondly, soft and thick and so familiar. "I know that it hurts you to live in this hostile and cruel world, but you have to learn and you can learn, Robin." She gave him a large smile. "One cannot rise to the heights of the world without making sacrifices and endeavoring to do this."

"Yeah, I know, my goddess of wisdom," he gave a riposte. His voice deepened to something far more serious as he uttered, "But you are right that it still hurts to be as disillusioned as I have become. It hurts to understand that my dreamers will never become real."

"Never fear, Robin. I will always be at your side," she pledged. "We are together."

"Together," he echoed.

She pulled back enough to look at her husband, thinking that she was married to the most handsome man she had ever met. "And we will find Richard and free Aunt Eleanor."

He smiled at his wife, and his smile was like lightning across thunderous skies, blinding and dazzling and mysterious. "We will do this for England, for King Richard, for Queen Eleanor, and for us," he said, in one breath. "We will save Richard _for us – for you, for me, and for our son_."

She winded her arms around his neck, burying her hands in his hair. "You are my heroic and irresistible Robin Hood!" she flattered him, grinning.

Robin laughed, tossing his head back. "My darling, you are my loving wife."

"Yes, I am."

Suddenly, he tensed and put a finger to her lips. "Shhh," he whispered. "We are not alone."

Robin disentwined himself from their embrace and got to his feet, frantically looking around. He unsheathed his scimitar that noiselessly slid out of the scabbard, and the blade glittered in the torchlight. After she had donned her night robe, Melisende climbed out of the bed and grabbed her elegant French sword.

The Huntingdon couple moved towards the dark alcove in the corner, where there was a secret door leading to the second staircase that could be used to get out of the château. Melisende opened the door, and they found themselves on the staircase flight, their eyes examining their surroundings.

At first, there was a deathly silence, but then they heard a light tread of receding footsteps.

Melisende inhaled the delicate and familiar scent, which was a subtle blend of sweet woodruff, rose oil, and jasmine. She blinked, and then her eyes widened. She raced down the stairs, feeling a surge of dread mingled with unbridled fury shoot through her. Her husband followed her step by step, alarmed to the danger and ready to attack anyone who dared try to harm them.

They picked up their pace, but Robin couldn't run as fast as Melisende could. Suddenly, Melisende disappeared from the stairs. He rushed forward, his sword drawn as he tried to find her and stave off the impending disaster; a feeling of growing panic and a terrifying sensation of dread swept through him. Then he stopped abruptly as he saw his wife standing on the lower staircase flight beside her lady-in-waiting – Lady Constance de Toucy. He was amazed as he observed Melisende grab Constance's shoulders and shake her rudely, in a brutal, unfeeling manner.

"Constance, you have been spying on me! You betrayed me, and I trusted you so much," Melisende hissed between set teeth. "How long have you been John's spy in my household?"

Constance de Toucy swallowed her sobs; she looked very scared. "I am sorry, I am so sorry…"

Robin stopped next to the two quarreling women, his gaze shuffling from Melisende to Constance. "We cannot consider granting our forgiveness to you, and your apology means nothing to us." He grimaced as a feeling of raw, burning hatred passed through him. "But you still have to answer some questions."

"I have nothing… to say," Constance sniffled.

"We are lucky that my husband has such a great vigilance. Thank my Robin for the discovery of your treason, Constance," Melisende commented, a lethally sweet smile curving her lips.

Robin slashed his scimitar in the air, causing a large vortex to appear. "I just heard the door's crack or something akin to it." He cast a brief look at the blade that gleamed in the moonlight that shone at them through the large window above the staircase. "After years of heading the king's private guard, I can hear every step, every word, every movement, and every sound. I always sense danger." He let out a bitter sigh. "I feel danger in most cases," he corrected himself.

Melisende didn't release her lady. "So you were going to inform John that Robin is alive and that we are planning to find Richard and free Aunt Eleanor."

Constance's face blanched before it blushed again. "Lady Melisende, I will tell you nothing." Her gaze slid to Robin, and her eyes filled with contempt. "Your husband is not my lord, and I don't respect him at all! He is an outlaw and his place is in Sherwood, not in your château and in your bed!"

Melisende smacked the other woman hard across her face. "Don't you dare accuse Robin of anything, you treacherous whore!" She slapped her again. "I know that you are John's spy! You betrayed me!"

"Forget about her, Melisende," Robin advised, sounding tiredly. "I don't care what she thinks of me."

"Her betrayal predestined her end," Melisende gave her verdict.

Robin looked down, at his scimitar; his heart skipped a beat, and his whole body froze with agitation for an awful moment. "Unfortunately, Lady Constance, we have to take your life. I warned you today, but you didn't listen. We cannot take additional risks now."

"Damn you, Lady Melisende!" Constance bellowed. "Don't you understand that Prince John will be a better king?" She glared at Robin, her face infused with all the hatred and rage she had in her heart. "This filthy outlaw may free the king who doesn't care about his country and who prefers to fight foreign wars and deplete England's treasury. At least Prince John is in England."

Robin felt rage boiling in his veins. "If I were in your shoes, Lady Constance, I would have been silent."

"Shut up, you piece of trash," Melisende growled, her heart pounding with anger.

Constance squirmed out of Melisende's grip and rammed a fist into her mistress' face. Melisende staggered backwards, and her sword slipped from her right hand; she was caught by Robin who stepped to her and supported her. At the same time, Constance grabbed Melisende's sword from the ground and made an assault on Robin, who stood half turned to her, his left arm wrapped around Melisende who was almost ambushed by the violent attack, the other gripping his scimitar tightly.

Robin reacted immediately, as the long six years he had spent in Outremer had taught him caution and attention to each and every minor detail, movement, and glimpse of something. He gently jostled Melisende away from him, at first holding her at arm length and then again pushing her aside. She almost lost her balance but regained it by holding onto the banister for support.

He blocked Constance's overhead blow just in time to save his own life. He lunged at Constance and crisscrossed their blades, and then a scream of pain resonated in the air as his sword sliced her in her right side deeply through her ribs. She tumbled to the floor, looking at Robin with sheer hatred; she dropped Melisende's sword that clattered on the stone floor when it hit it.

"I am sorry," Robin said in a mortuary voice. "You attacked me. I had to defend myself."

"I hate you, Robin Hood! You are a damned outlaw!" Constance shouted as she scrambled to her feet, clutching her wound with her hand. "You think that you can save England and the king!" Her blue velvet cloak was stained with her own blood. "I won't allow you to meddle in John's deals."

With a swift movement, Constance extracted a curved dagger from the inner pocket of her cloak. But she didn't have time to act: another dagger flew in the air, and loud damning words boomed around them. In a moment, the perfidious woman lay on her back, her eyes sightless, her mouth opened slightly, as if in shock, and the hilt of Melisende's dagger protruded from beneath her chin.

Melisende appeared beside Robin. She gasped in disbelief and shock at the realization of what she had just done to the lady who had served her for about five years. Calling on all her inner resources to regain her composure, she steadied her breathing and settled her mind on the inevitability of her lady-in-waiting's death. "Constance cannot accuse anyone of her death because she earned it."

Robin nodded slowly. "Yes," he whispered, resigned but still disbelieving.

"It was a poisoned dagger. She collected it in my chamber." She glared murderously at her lady's corpse. "If she managed to throw it at you, Robin, you would have been dead in several hours."

His brow curved. "You use poisoned daggers, don't you?"

"Yes, I do," she acknowledged with sadness. "Some of the rebellious vassals tried to kill me several times. I am alive only thanks to my outstanding swordplay and to some other tricks of mine."

His heart leaped with worry. "Who tried to kill you?" In a moment, his heart was already thrumming with rage, and there was the predatory light in his eyes. "Give me their names, Melisende. Now they are my vassals, too, and I will kill them for your safety and for the safety of our son."

She refused to make eye contact for a few moments before turning to him and locking her uneasy gaze met Robin's. "I killed one of them when he attacked me after one of the feasts at the court. Another traitor attacked me in the woods, and I slashed his throat in time, before he could slash mine. Aunt Eleanor officially executed the third man."

Robin nodded, understanding the motive behind her actions. He was not shocked, but stunned that his wife had murdered several people. Marian had never killed a man in her life, and that was another difference between Melisende and his former betrothed. But Melisende was a Plantagenet by blood and birth, and he understood that her life was different from Marian's. The Plantagenets were a royal dynasty, and there was a fierce struggle for power between the family members – bloodshed was unavoidable. Robin was very grateful to King Richard for teaching Melisende to fight.

Melisende stepped towards Robin, unsure what he thought of her at the moment. "Robin, you won't stop loving me now, will you?" She made a sharp intake of breath. "I mean after my confession."

His sword dropped to the floor with a clang. Robin cupped her face and let his mouth hover over hers. Then he planted a sweet kiss on her lips. "Never think of such ridiculous things, my love!"

Robin engulfed Melisende in his arms, and she held on, feeling lightheaded from his closeness and dizzy from his warm and unequivocally masculine scent that filled her nostrils and pumped through her bloodstream. Entwined in each other's arms and listening to the loud beating of their hearts, they slowly walked back to the bedchamber, their stride smooth and flowing over the floor.

They both were shocked with the sickening understanding of how far Prince John could go to collect tidbits of precious information against King Richard and his other relatives. They realized that they had to be overcautious onwards; Melisende assured Robin that she would deal with Constance's body in the morning, representing the case as an attempted robbery when her lady was killed by accident.

The happy couple spent the whole night at Château de Roquetaillade. Robin stayed with Melisende, who still felt weak from childbirth and affected by the grisly events with Prince John's spy. Catherine and the midwife brought the crib to the Countess of Huntingdon's room, and they spent several hours watching the boy sleep in peaceful awe. They enthusiastically debated over little Richard's betrothals to one of the Norman, Poitevin, or Saxon heiresses. Robin began to think of his future children's names and blurted out cocksurely that all his sons would resemble him, and Melisende laughed at him in response, threatening to deny him her wifely duties if he didn't stop pedaling his annoying drivel.

Archer and Carter briefly met Melisende in the master bedchamber and thanked her for hospitality – for two warm beds in the guests' quarters and for luxurious French food served to them by Lady Catherine de Mathefelon in the bedrooms to avoid being seen by the other servants. Archer was fascinated by Melisende a lot, considering her the most beautiful woman whom he had ever met.

The morning sun rose bright and resplendent, painting the sky in pink and rich red ochre. Robin, Carter, and Archer left the château in the early hours of the next day, heading to the inn in Mazères, where Will, Djaq, and Tuck joined them in their continuing voyage to the north. They planned to travel to Calais incognito, taking an inland route through Aquitaine, Anjou, Maine, and Normandy.

§§§

Nobody came to the dungeons for more than a week, save for a few guards who threw loaves of bread and flasks of water to Megan and Guy, which was standard food in jail. The gloom settled heavily upon the prisoners, who waited for Isabella's new visit or Prince John's official order to execute them. The two jailbirds spent most of their time in silence, but from time to time they talked about everything and nothing and then circled back to talk about trifles again, for silence seemed worse than death.

After Megan had been apprehended, Guy was never tortured and had much time to contemplate his life – all his crimes, missteps, mistakes, and miscalculations. He spent many hours pondering over the bad things which he had committed in his life, but most of the time he thought of his service to Vaisey. A tapestry of his life emerged in his mind as a sequence of morally degrading events since the day of the fire at Gisborne Manor, the years filled with misery, pain, and decadence. At present, Guy was sure that everything he had endured after his arrest was God's punishment for his heinous crimes.

The last torture had a profound emotional impact on Guy. Before he had never been put to the rack, although he had frequently watched Vaisey torture prisoners and laugh when they had writhed in pain and at times even in death throes. Guy himself had usually observed the torture with a somber and guarded expression, but he had never enjoyed the process as much as the sheriff had always felt. Now, after the months of imprisonment and after being on the receiving end of the inhuman torture, Guy repented of all the cruel things he had done to the prisoners with his own hands.

Gisborne's opinion concurred with those of King Richard and Robin: Vaisey, who had caused so much pain and grief to countless people, must have been hanged, drawn, and quartered in front of the eyes of a bloodthirsty crowd. He could have watched Vaisey's public execution, luxuriating in a feeling of satisfaction that his ex-master's end was gruesome and barbaric, but instead he had contravened the king's order and had dug his own grave. His only consolation was that Vaisey had died at his blade. However, to him it was a bitter pill to swallow that he himself would either die in the underground dungeons or would be executed on the day of Prince John's coronation, in the same manner as the sheriff could have been executed at King Richard's behest.

The more time Guy spent with Lady Megan Bennet, the more he liked her. Megan and he found in each other a source of inspiration, hope, and motivation not to give up on themselves, and a sense of camaraderie developed between them. Maybe they felt emotionally close because they were facing the impending death in the dungeons together, tied to one another with an invisible thread of the hopelessness of their situation. Their communication was like twilight in the pitchy darkness, and it encouraged them to persevere through the challenges and perils – to keep fighting for their lives.

Megan lay on her straw mattress, her eyes tightly shut. She was dimly aware of passing hours, as light sometimes filtered through her eyelids and other times didn't. "It is so bad that Sir Robin is dead," she said after a long pause. "He would have rescued King Richard and us."

Guy was lying on his own mattress in his cell, staring at the dark ceiling. He was quiet for a moment, and then he replied with a sigh, "Robin was a good man; he was a true hero and a temerarious soldier. I regret that he is no longer with us."

She drew her fingers through a gorgeous mass of her dark hair, as if she were combing it. "The last time I met Sir Robin of Locksley was at the court in Poitiers about two years ago. I was annoyed that he again was itching to be in the center of attention and that all of Queen Eleanor's ladies wanted to be with him." She breathed a sigh of regret. "I didn't know that I would never see him again."

They remembered the hero again and then gave a tribute to him by silently praying for Robin's eternal peace in Heaven. Soon they found themselves sitting on the floor near the grating, which had already become their habit to beguile long, endlessly stressful hours with each other.

Guy gave Megan a pained smile. "Tell me the truth, Meg: did you ever feel any kind of attraction to Robin? I can hardly believe that you are not like many others who fell for him at first glance or who dreamt of becoming a sweetheart of England's most famous hero." For whatever reason, he needed to know that.

Megan looked at Guy, her face flushing with rising anger. "Sir Robin was a great man, as I told you once, but I would have never fallen for him." She crossed herself. "May his soul rest in peace…" Her heart began to pound harder. "Sir Robin wasn't my type of a man."

Guy looked amazed, but he was smiling. His voice turned sly. "I suppose that you rejected too many suitors if you dare say such things about the great Robin Hood."

Megan rose to her feet from the floor. "Guy, do I look like a woman who is very much charmed by thoughts of matrimony and who is ready to renounce her liberty to a man I am not attracted to?"

"I am well aware of your independent spirit," he said, smiling somewhat teasingly. "Your independence and constant rejections of marriage proposals have become a legend at many royal courts."

Megan raised her chin with scrumptious pride. "I am not a breeding cow that will marry a man of my father's choice and will live a life of a controlled woman. I would rather die than marry a fat and old lord, even if he is rich and highborn. I will marry only a man whom I love."

"I hope that it will happen as you wish," he wished her sincerely. Then, he mimicked her verbal attack with the difference that he directed it at her and women, not at men like she had done. "That's why you and other decent maids carry yourself like a queen and spend your days rejecting your suitors."

An incisive laugh erupted from her mouth. "You are right, Sir Guy of Gisborne!" she exclaimed. "I am a proud noblewoman of great prospects, and I won't allow any lord to court me unless I see that he is worthy of my affection and attention." She planted her hands on her hips, and her face turned dreamy. "I would have recognized such a man – the love of my life – in a throng. A woman always feels and knows when she meets her destiny, like a sailor knows the open sea."

"Maybe you are right, Meg."

Guy looked at Megan in fascination. The blush of reverent pride mingled with natural modesty which suddenly suffused her cheeks, the brilliancy and depth of her strikingly blue eyes, and her brave and honest manner of leading a conversation – all these things altogether produced an indescribably deep effect on Guy. As his mind floated to the days of his marriage to Marian, his heart skipped a beat and then beat rapidly: he had never heard such words from Marian, who had compared him with Robin and had been torn between him and his former enemy. Megan was similar to Marian in stubbornness and willfulness, but Megan's head was free from confusion, and she was more experienced in the matters of understanding human nature, probably thanks to the fact that she had grown up at the court.

Megan slanted a furtive glance at him. "Guy, Amicia told me that you had lost your wife," she said, unexpectedly even to herself.

"Yes, I did."

Megan sat down on the floor, gazing at Guy. "Is it painful to lose someone you love?"

"I suppose so."

She was biting her tongue so she wouldn't ask him anything else about Marian and their marriage, but something inside of her spurred her to continue questioning him. "But did an annulment hurt you?"

"Why do you need to know this, Meg?"

"I have never loved a man, and I am just curious."

In a short silence, Guy held debate with himself, being conflicted over his feelings for Marian. There was still a sincere passion for her in his heart, but his hope to be loved by her seemed a deceitful dream, like a fog dispelled by the wind. "It would have given me much pain a year ago, but not now." He was surprised how easily and quickly the words came out of his mouth. "Since my last trip to the Holy Land, many things changed. Most importantly, I changed and re-assessed life values."

"Then you loved what you wanted your wife to be like and not the person she truly was. Or you might have loved her with a sort of warped love; I mean that it might have been not a healthy, pure, and unselfish love but something else," she surmised.

"This idea occurred to me once," he acknowledged. "But I really loved her." He was confused as two contradicting thoughts were whirling in his head. At one side, he wanted to persuade himself that he still needed Marian with a gnawing, aching desperation, and yet he felt that it wasn't true because he had become a self-sufficient man, strong enough to redeem himself not through his love for any woman but through good deeds and sacrifices.

"Ah, well," she said with a note of chagrin. "You know better."

"Perhaps only God knows the truth."

"I see." Megan was jealous of Guy to the lady who used to be Robin Hood's sweetheart and Guy's wife.

They relapsed into silence, each of them lost in a maze of their own thoughts.

Megan sighed wearily. The more time she spent in the dungeons, the more unusual her sensations were. After a month of her imprisonment, Megan felt as if she remained in a long reverie. Soon she could no longer distinguish her waking hours from nighttime, dreams from reality, hallucinations from real images, and day from night. All these things were mixed, messed up, and chaotic, floating in her tired mind. She no longer felt anything, apart from the worry about her father and King Richard; she no longer knew anything for sure, and she no longer thought. Strangely, she found it hard even to dream.

"Guy, I feel that I am going mad," Megan complained, breaking the silence. "I am like a chained creature living in nothingness, for I have begun to forget what normal life is like."

Guy gave her a knowing look. "I feel the same, Meg. Now I am calmer than I was at the beginning."

She sighed. "It is very disturbing that I have lost my ability to experience delight and joy." She looked up, at the damp ceiling watching a droplet of rain fall on her. She shifted on the floor and moved her arms, and the iron shackles on her wrists rattled. "These dungeons are very damp."

"The dampness percolates through the small crevices in the ceiling."

"Usually droplets fall at regular intervals," she remarked. "I often listen to this noise."

"And so do I."

"Ah!" Megan cried out, putting her hands on her eyes, as if she were shielding herself from the misery of the dungeons. A convulsive trembling shook her whole frame as despair overcame her. "We, innocent prisoners, will die here, and King Richard is doomed to stay captive forever!"

Guy sighed resignedly. "I am afraid that it might be true. I mean our deaths here."

"Are you scared at least a little?" she asked inquisitively.

He raised a quizzical brow. "Scared of what?"

She scoffed. "I mean your date with an executioner."

"Do I look scared, young lady?" he challenged her, like he would have treated any impertinent girl.

"Actually, no."

Guy smiled. "I feel terrible, but I am not frightened to die. Instead, I feel completely free from my old demons, but I do fear where I will go in afterlife."

"Hmm," she said. "Interesting."

"Well, why shouldn't I fear the pain of execution? It will happen quickly, unless they sentence me to being hanged, drawn, and quartered."

"I meant that you must fear to go to hell because of all the awful things you have done in your life. No one actually seems sorry that you are on the way out, do they? Does it not make you saddened?"

He shrugged helplessly. "I can't alter the public opinion about me. What is done is done." His chest filled with regret and guilt. "And if I am to die, then so be it. I am just worried about King Richard, Marian, and my friends. If I could have helped them, I would have done that with great pleasure."

"Your former wife," she murmured, then put a hand on her mouth. "I am sorry."

Guy waved a dismissive hand. "You did nothing wrong, Meg. Don't apologize." He muttered something unclear. "It is alright. It doesn't hurt me as much as it would hurt me a year ago," he reiterated what he had already told her today.

She blinked, her expression befuddled. "Really?"

"Precisely what you heard me say."

Guy noticed again that he didn't need to pretend that her words didn't hurt him, feeling as if he had shoved them out with an air of neglectful causality. Nevertheless, deeply under the surface, there was still a wound in his heart as Marian wasn't his anymore, and there was a lingering feeling of regret that after all she was lost to him forever. But, strictly speaking, her heart had never been only his!

Hours were slipping away, and finally darkness descended upon Nottingham. Both Megan and Guy wished the numbing fingers of sleep to creep over them, but it was hard to fall asleep that night.

Megan hated sleeping on her hard straw mattress. She jumped to her feet and squatted near the wall, trembling all over as her mind burned with thoughts of the king's possible death and as she thought of her father who must have been going insane in the light of her disappearance. She couldn't try to guess without a shudder in her chest what her father was thinking of: Sir Hugh Bennet knew that she had attempted to spy on Isabella of Gisborne, and he had surely understood that she had landed in trouble as she hadn't returned home for so long. But as nobody knew about the underground prison, then she would die there with Guy, and her father would learn nothing about her end.

Tonight Guy didn't sleep either, thinking of their lousy situation, but even more of Megan. To the Black Knights and Prince John, she was a mere inconvenience to be removed. He had no doubt that John would order her execution, for Megan had ruined her last chance to get her freedom back by insulting Isabella. The thought that they would die in the dungeons or would be executed, while the king languished in the foreign prison made him angrier: he hated Prince John, Vaisey, Isabella, and himself with a virulent hatred. But the heat of anger couldn't burn through the thick walls that surrounded Megan and him, and it couldn't lift the crushing weight of his helplessness either.

Few things could make a man feel more miserable than an impotent anger and feelings of helplessness and worthlessness. That was what had happened to Guy, who was bathing in a sea of self-loathing.

At dawn, the heavy door flung open, and Blamire entered Guy's cell, holding one torch in his hand. The light of the torches threw shadows on the somber stone walls, and Guy saw a stranger, escorted by two guards with torches. In a moment, he recognized the Baron of Rotherham in him, who stood near Blamire, smiling malignantly at Guy. Guy was shocked to see how pale and thin Rotherham was, which must have been the consequence of his severe lung injury, he believed.

"It was a boring week, but we will have much fun tonight," Rotherham promulgated in a sardonic voice. He barked an order to Blamire and, snickering from across the cell, swung around and walked away.

Guy understood the meaning – Rotherham intended to torture him. In the next moment, one of the guards jabbed Guy in the ribs, and then he was grabbed by his shoulders and dragged to the corridor.

His forced departure was accompanied by the guards' odious laughter and by Megan's hastily asked questions where they were taking Guy. The last thing Guy heard was the sound of a hard slap on someone's cheek, understanding that Rotherham had slapped Megan across her face. Rage filled Guy's heart, and he began to struggle with his captors, but a fierce pain slashed through his skull as he was hit on the nape of his head. His world morphed into a mist of pain, and then he passed out.

The Baron of Rotherham meted out one of Vaisey's most inhuman tortures to Guy. Guy regained his consciousness in the torture room, but at first he didn't understand what was happening to him. But when he saw a torture device in Rotherham's hands and shuddered in horror, as he recalled that the sheriff had boasted that he had invented the torture that would inflict on a victim the most agonizing pain possible. Now Guy had a chance to test the seriousness of Vaisey's words on his own body.

The torture device consisted of a metal piece with two opposed bi-pronged forks attached to a leather strap. One of the guards pushed one end of the device under Guy's chin, the other to the sternum, and the strap was used to secure Guy's neck to the tool, while his body was dangling from the ceiling for a long time, and he couldn't sleep during all these hours. In the end, Guy dropped his head to his chest, and the prongs slightly pierced the skin of his neck and injured his chest, and Rotherham commanded to retrieve the torture device from his neck before it could cause any fatal damage to his throat.

The torture was over, and Guy was so weak that he simply allowed the guards to carry him to a torture table and put him on his stomach; then his wrists and ankles were tied to the corners of the table. Through a haze swirling in his head, Guy saw Rotherham take a long leather whip with small pieces of metal at the tip, which Blamire had once used to inflict more pain on him. A sudden dread chilled him to his marrow, and he repressed a scream of horror.

Rotherham laughed spitefully at the top of his lungs. "I will show you what life in Heaven is like, Gisborne!" he threatened. "I have never liked you, but Vaisey favored and loved you beyond measure."

Guy mustered all his courage to reply. "I have never liked you either, Rotherham."

Rotherham clapped his hands in delight. "You will be a piece of meat after I am done with you!"

"Go to hell, you asshole," Guy snarled.

"What did you say, you damned bastard?" The Baron of Rotherham brought the whip before Guy's eyes. "You have my word that my flogging of you will be worse than Blamire's!"

"Do whatever you like," the prisoner parried.

Rotherham croaked with laughter. "You mustn't be angry with me, Gisborne." He smashed his fist into Guy's face. "You deserve this punishment for murdering Lord Vaisey, your master." He punched Guy in his nose. "You killed one of us, one of the Black Knights, and you will pay for that."

Rotherham took a swing with the whip and then crushed it on Guy's naked back. More lashes followed, and blood began seeping from shredded skin; the sound of the beating was reverberating savagely in Guy's ears. Guy moaned and writhed in pain, while Rotherham laughed at his agony. And then Guy stopped groaning, and numbness took possession of him; the sadness of such a terrible treatment wholly extinguished in him any willingness to struggle, but his will still wasn't broken.

After Guy had been given at least twenty five lashes, the punishment was ceased. Blamire came to the room, his gaze stopping on Guy; he approached Rotherham and whispered something into his ear. With a triumphal smile on his face, Rotherham made his way to the table and picked up a leather tapering whip of long, knotted, plaited thongs with metal nails on the tip.

"This whip is new, and it is worse," Blamire enlightened, a sadistic smile hovering over his lips.

"Exactly what I need," Rotherham retorted, tittering and adding how much fun he would have.

"If I survive, I will kill you myself, Rotherham," Guy took an oath. His voice was shaking as he shrank away with horror at the prospect of what was coming to him. "I will kill you with my bare hands."

Rotherham and Blamire burst into steel-hearted laughter, spilling their bile and callosity into it.

"You won't kill me before I marry my sweet Megan Bennet, who was your companion during the past few weeks," Rotherham said in sing song tones, brandishing the whip threateningly at Guy's lacerated back. "She is a reluctant bride, but she will become a complaisant wife once I break her will."

Guy laughed. "You will never do that."

The Baron of Rotherham raised a brow. "And why?"

"Because she is strong and stout-hearted," Guy said firmly.

"Gisborne, Lady Isabella told me that you became caged lovebirds," Rotherham snarled. "I am willing to punish you more harshly for that."

Guy felt a searing pain in his back as Rotherham struck his back with the whip with an inhuman violence. Another lash followed, then another and another, and more.

Every new lash stole Guy's breath away, and he howled with pain, thinking that even the first torture in hadn't been as dreadful as the current one. The pain was unbearable, and Guy started sobbing, his body shaking violently. Nausea passed through him in a surging wave, and a sickening feeling of being subject to such a cutthroat excruciation overpowered him. Guy vomited and almost chocked when the contents of his stomach went out as a new wave of nausea clutched his stomach.

Although his mind was dazed with pain, Guy distinguished the outlines of a tall woman, her long dark hair arranged in an elegant twist, revealing the fine contours of her high cheekbones and emphasizing the grace of her neck. She wore a long green and yellow silk gown with a deep squire-cut neckline and sleeves tight to the wrists, the front adorned in silver and gold braid. As Guy's steel blue eyes locked with the woman's eyes of the same color, he recognized his own sister in the guest.

"Isabella, just kill me, please," Guy begged her, his eyes large and pleading.

Guy uttered these words with such deep anguish, with utter gravity and yet with a clear note of intense despair, that Isabella couldn't restrain a sob from escaping her lips. She was shocked to see the picture of her brother's half-dead form on the table, and her heart flipped over, and then over again.

For the first time in many years, Isabella pitied Guy. "Enough!" her voice boomed.

"No, Lady Isabella, this is not enough!" Rotherham protested, shaking his head. "Prince John wants to execute Gisborne publicly, making an example out of him."

"Stop it!" Isabella shouted. "Lord Rotherham, I didn't order you to kill him with your flogging!"

"As you wish, my lady," Rotherham conceded with a look of wonder, for he didn't anticipate seeing empathy from Isabella to Guy. "You shouldn't pity him as–"

"Don't say anything else, my lord," Isabella interrupted him, turning to face the guards who stood behind her, and she nodded at them. "Take Guy to his cell and be careful while carrying him," she commanded. "I will invite Doctor Blight to him today, and I myself will come to him later."

Guy no longer could think and speak. He cast a blurred glance at Isabella and two guards, whom he recognized. His vision was unclear as black spots danced before his eyes, and he blinked. His heart was beating to suffocation, as if he had just started a headlong race, and the soft folds of blankness were enveloping his body and pressing down upon him from the top. Guy was in such a hellish pain that he couldn't carry on anymore. Darkness – his savior – enshrouded him and swallowed him up.

At the lady sheriff's instruction, Sir Aubrey of Peterborough and Sir Roderick of Bardney, who were sympathetic to him, carried the beaten prisoner to his cell as carefully as they could, trying not to hurt him. Meanwhile, Isabella set a course for Megan's cell, accelerating her footsteps as she walked.

Megan jumped to her feet as she saw Isabella. She anticipated that the lady sheriff came to gloat, but she was stunned to discover that Isabella looked very uneasy, if not terrified. There was an unfamiliar light in Isabella's eyes that were stormy with emotions which Megan hadn't seen in her before.

"Megan, you have to aid Guy," Isabella began in a strangled voice.

"What happened?" Megan's eyes were wide in horror.

"Guy was tortured, very brutally," Isabella replied huskily, her eyes downcast.

Megan clenched her fists. "You tortured your own brother, you snake!" she cried out as anger built up in her veins. "Do you have at least some warmth left in your cold heart? He is your brother!"

Isabella had the good grace not to look at the other woman. "I didn't order to torture Guy during the last few weeks, and I never wanted to torture him so… brutally." She ran her hand through her hair, and finally swung her gaze to Megan. "Rotherham tortured him."

"Rotherham is a fiend!" Megan roared, her face turning white as fury overmastered her. "All the Black Knights are beasts! Prince John is a beast!" She pointed at Isabella. "You are a beast too!"

"Spare me your anger, you little fool," Isabella fired back, her lips thinning as she was getting angry. "Go and take care of Guy instead of blathering on and on. I will fetch the physician."

Guy opened his eyes and winced as a sharp pain shot through his body. He realized that he lay face down, on his belly, with his legs and arms outstretched. But neither his hands nor his legs were shackled, and he just lay flat on his mattress, struggling for every breath and fighting for his life. But Guy didn't mind the pain that coursed through his body, indifferent to his own death.

He watched a pair of slender legs appear near his mattress, and he heard a voice whispering his name through the blackness. Then he felt a touch of the wet cloth on his bare wounded back. At that touch, he gave a howl as his agony was so great that he was on the verge of fainting. As the pain receded and his ability to think returned, he found himself looking at the woman's tear-stained face, for she bent her head down was and her face was in inches from Guy's. She was Megan.

"You will be alright. You won't die," Megan murmured, tears shining in her eyes.

"I am already dead," Guy gasped, every word filled with pain.

Guy moved his body, and the burning, sulphurous pain again raced through his body. He moaned and then suddenly felt a gentle hand on the injured skin of his back as it was tending to his wounds. The hand paused for a moment, giving him time to breathe and to fight off the growing nausea. And then it began cleaning his injuries again. Guy groaned, and the hand paused again.

"Doctor Blight thinks that you will contract a fever, but at least you won't be tortured again," she said, her voice as steady voice as she could make it sound. "You will be alright. I will take care of you."

Guy smiled vaguely. "Do you want me to live?"

She smiled, fresh tears filling her eyes. "Yes, I do."

"Thank you," he whispered.

Looking down at his bloodied and mutilated back, Megan felt a powerful influx of sympathy in her heart. "Isabella permitted me to help you. I think she has some humanity in her frozen heart."

Her words brought Guy's troubled stare up to hers once more. "She does hate me."

She smiled slightly. "She hates you, but this time she feared you would die."

Megan moistened the cloth in a bowl and continued cleaning the wounds. Guy gave a howl of pain as her hand glided over the whole surface of his back down his spine. She took some salt and dissolved several pinches in the water. Blight told her that she had to wash Guy's back twice per day with salt water for antiseptic purposes. As Megan proceeded to her task, Guy winced under her touch, and each of his groans made her heart constrict. She was trying to be careful and not to hurt him more.

Guy was barely able to drag a shallow breath, and he let the breath slowly flow out. He thought that God had sent Megan to him: she was saving his life, asking nothing else in return. He craved to thank her, and he regretted that he wasn't a king, an emperor, an archangel, or God himself, who could reward her with the most precious treasures. But he knew that Megan needed nothing from him and was helping him out of the nobility of her heart, for she had a great deal of compassion, sweetness, and gentleness stored in her heart, which he had never seen in other women, except for Marian.

Guy moved his head to face her, and their eyes met; tears sprang into his eyes. "Meg, you are _my angel of salvation_." Then he shut his eyes, and darkness claimed him, but his heart was light.

Megan put away the cloth in the bowl. She leaned over her patient and pressed her palm to his unshaven cheek, caressing it with her thumbs. Then she gave him a chaste kiss on his lips. "I will save you, Guy," she whispered. "I won't let you die."

§§§

The journey of Robin Hood and his friends from Aquitaine to Calais was long and arduous. It was not very cold, but the drizzling rain fell all the time, and the horses had to make their way through the mud of the roads; leaden clouds denoted more approaching storms. They didn't travel through the territories of the Angevin Empire and France as much as they could.

Robin felt unwell and asked Djaq to give him painkilling herbs in the evenings when they stopped at various inns for a night to continue their journey to Calais later. Robin's thoughts were pessimistic in the extreme; he fantasized that King Richard was dead and blamed himself for his failure to save his liege. His friends persuaded him to stop in one of the villagers or towns they passed by, but he snapped that there was no time for rest, for he felt that Richard's life was in grave peril.

Robin couldn't rest when the lives of King Richard and the Queen Mother were endangered. They had a scheduled meeting with Sir William de Longchamp in Calais, where they were supposed to intersect with Sir Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, who had been scouting the situation for some time, and so they planned to exchange news and together decide on a course of action.

They arrived in Calais in the late dusk. The stormy clouds were black like soot-laden smoke, rushing with extraordinary swiftness across the sky, and the travelers had to hurry to find their shelter at the inn near the harbor. As they dismounted, a gust of strong wind blew from the English Channel, and they hastened to hide from the heavy rain.

Robin was the most exhausted one among his companions. He hopped down from his saddle to the ground, and Archer came to him, clasping him about the waist and supporting him. As they pulled their hoods over their heads, they walked to the entrance; Robin moved with a stiff gait, every muscle of his body was tense with discomfort. They were pleased that Carter had already rented three rooms for them; Archer was again supposed to share a room with Robin. The two brothers ascended the stairs, Carter peeped out at them from the room, signaling that they had arrived. Archer ushered Robin into the room, and the hero walked to the bed, seated himself there, and began to undress.

Outside the rain continued to pour as if the days of the world flood had come back to earth. The fire ticked softly in the hearth, but it was still cold in the chamber, and Robin started shivering. Archer went downstairs and found the innkeeper, demanding to bring more firewood to their room, for Robin needed comfortable and warm conditions for the night. Soon Archer stood on his knees by the hearth, efficiently poking at the logs and fanning the embers until the flames rose and crackled.

Archer scrambled to his feet and sat down on the chair before the hearth; then he removed his boots and his warm cloak. "How are you feeling, Robin?"

Robin shrugged. "I am fine. I will feel better in the morning."

Archer shook his head. "I doubt that."

"We arrived in Calais two days before the meeting with Sir William, so I have enough time for rest."

"You need to rest more, Robin. You are not as strong as you used to be."

Robin sighed resignedly. "I know this. Although it has healed, my wound is troubling me a great deal." He laughed sourly. "But I cannot lose time – King Richard and England need me."

"Brother, you must stop to devote yourself completely to the king and England," Archer expostulated. "I don't like Tuck, for he seems to be a fanatic. And yet, I agree with him that you need to strike a balance between your loyalty to England and to the people."

Robin glanced at Archer astutely. His brother's words were true, but there was no balance of loyalty in his life due to the grave secret of his birth. "I will be able to rest only when we finally learn what happened to King Richard." As he finished undressing, he put on his long blue brocade robe. He lay back on the bed, quiet for a long moment before pulling the blanket tight under his chin.

"Robin, I am being serious. You are driving yourself to madness. You don't eat and don't sleep. You are always thinking of the king. You need to stop being so desperate."

"I am always calm and reserved. I am not annoying and irritating, like Tuck."

Archer looked at Robin, concern flooding him. "Robin, you seem to be calm, but your mood is very foul. As soon as we remain alone, you start brooding over the fates of King Richard and Queen Eleanor. You are full of anxiety, and you don't sleep well; you fail to recover your strength in nighttime."

"You are right," Robin admitted. "I am always thinking of them."

"Then you should take care of yourself for King Richard, as you don't want to do that for yourself."

Robin gave a non-committal nod. "I will try."

"No," Archer said, his stern tone serving to express the significance of his words. "Robin, don't be a fool. You are not invincible." He let out a sigh. "If you don't take good care of yourself now, you will be unable to save King Richard even with our assistance. You will have no strength."

"God's teeth!" Robin cursed. "I will do that just to free myself from your lectures!"

"Robin, I think we should ask Djaq to examine you," Archer offered.

Robin nodded. "Yes. I would be grateful."

In the evening, Robin was too tired and refrained from eating as his appetite was lacking, but Djaq compelled him to eat a bowl of poultry soup to keep his strength up. He also drank three goblets of wine, hoping to sleep better. He was tired not only due to his still-not-so-good health, but also due to his ever-increasing anxiety that was taking its toll on him. Wine and Djaq's sleeping draught ensured that he didn't have nightmares and phantoms that night.

Robin and his friends spent several uneventful days in Calais, waiting for de Longchamp's arrival. On the third day, Robin and his friends, except for Tuck, headed to a tavern in the harbor, where the long-hoped-for meeting was going to take place. Everyone was hooded to preserve their identities.

As they entered the tavern, Robin swept his eyes over the tavern, and he grimaced. Even at the early morning hours, the place was full of customers, all seeking a pint of ale, a cup of watered wine, or something else to start the day with. The distant, ominous boom of thunder was heard even in the tavern, so Robin was pleased that they were already inside and wouldn't be soaked to the bone.

They went to a table in a distant alcove, with the view on the raging sea. It was the most convenient place to have a quiet chat. As it was the tavern in the harbor, there were many sailors there, spending time ashore in the storm that ravaged the sea waters in the past days. There were many English Crusaders there too: they returned from the Holy Land and waited for the storm to abate in order to cross the Channel. Everyone looked with interest on the group of the hooded guests, who strode forward and seated at the table in the alcove.

Robin immediately noticed that the visitors of the tavern favored them with curious stares. Archer and Robin attracted a lot of attention as they wore quivers of arrows on their backs and Saracen scimitars that hung at their waists. Their armor generated too much interest from the Crusaders, and Robin regretted that he had taken his bow and sword to the tavern.

William de Longchamp was already late, and, without saying it aloud, Robin feared that he wouldn't come. The bad weather could have delayed the man somewhere on the way from Poitiers to Calais.

Archer exchanged a couple of words with Robin and the others, who nodded their agreement. "Hey, my dear, it is good to see you," he hailed the servant girl who stopped near their table. "Bring a cup of red wine for me, as well as two cups of ale and two cups of red wine for my friends."

The girl looked at him with interest, then walked away. In several minutes, she set cups of wine and ale in front of them, sloshing some red liquid over the table. With a look of distress on her face, she leaned over to wipe up the spill, ensuring that the full mounds of her breasts wobbled temptingly close to Archer's face while she worked. Archer winked at her cheekily, and she pretended a blush.

Carter lifted his brow. "These tavern wenches are usually frivolous, but this one is very bold."

"Hah, of course," Archer said brashly. "She was ready to come with one of us to a corridor or even to a street somewhere in the city right now. She doesn't care who her bedmate is if she is paid for her services." He sipped some ale. "And this is what I like in these young lasses."

Robin giggled. "Archer, you seem to have had a rich collection of conquests. You have a penchant for getting on well with girls." He still didn't begin to drink his wine.

"My experience is nearly as great as yours, brother," Archer riposted, slowly drinking his ale. "Carter told me that you were an infamous debauchee at the court in Aquitaine."

"Sometimes Much chatted animatedly with us about your escapades at the court," Will said as he drank his wine; he ordered warm spiced wine, like the one he always drank in Locksley.

Robin frowned, discomforted by the memory. "I had many love affairs in the past," he acknowledged, looking into the red liquid in his cup. "But I have never been a libertine. And now I am faithful to my wife." He sighed. "But our father, Archer, was quite a debauchee before he married… my mother." It was more and more difficult to call Lady Elizabeth of Locksley his mother, for he had never even seen her, and now he knew that his old life was a lie and that he was the Queen Mother's illegitimate son.

Waving his hand almost angrily as the mention of Malcolm set him on the edge, Archer gestured the servant girl to fill his cup with wine again. "Our father is a remarkable man," he said in a sibilant voice.

"I cannot disagree," Robin confirmed. He sipped wine, cringing in disgust.

Archer bared his teeth as he spoke. "No doubt."

The others were taken aback by the harshness in Archer and Robin's voices as they conversed about Malcolm of Locksley. They didn't dare ask anything, for it wasn't their place to interfere.

In a moment, the servant girl returned and brought several more cups of wine and ale to their table, winking at Archer who flirted brazenly with her. The wine was of poor quality and was watered too, and Robin was accustomed to the exquisite wines from the king's private collection: the acid taste of wine made him feel nauseated, and he had to beat off the urge to vomit.

"Why are you not drinking, Robin?" Djaq asked, skipping to another topic.

"This wine is terrible," Robin assessed as he set down his cup.

Archer swallowed some of the tart liquid before answering. "Well, brother, I think I know why you don't like this wine: I have heard that King Richard has great taste in wines."

"Indeed. King Richard is a connoisseur of wines, and he has his own vineyards in Bordeaux and in the Loire Valley," Robin informed, looking into the full cup of wine which he didn't intend to drink. "The popularity of Bordeaux wines in England increased twofold, if not more, after Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine's marriage to King Henry. Bordeaux became the province of the Angevin Empire, and since then, the wines produced in this region were exported to England."

"Robin," Carter called his friend, who turned his gaze at him. "Graves is the principal wine region of Bordeaux, and you should be proud that you are their lord now."

"Yeah, I am very proud of that," Robin retorted with a chuckle.

Will smiled. "You seem to be an expert in wines, Robin."

"I am not an expert, but I have taste in wines," Robin amended. "King Richard is an expert."

"Robin and Robert de Beaumont know a lot about Aquitaine and its culture," Carter elaborated, tapping his chin with his fingers. "Robert spent much time at Prince Richard's court in childhood and was greatly influenced by the court life; he was born in England, but he actually grew up in the Norman and Aquitanian estates of his family." He pointed a finger at Robin. "You, Robin, lived in Poitiers for no more than two years in total. Notwithstanding the above, you know so much about the Aquitanian culture and art; your Occitan is perfect." He smiled admiringly. "I am greatly impressed."

Robin shrugged elegantly. "Well, I lived in Aquitaine for some time, and I also learnt many things from King Richard. Besides, I have always been interested in the Aquitanian culture." He was relieved that his face was hooded and that his companions were unable to see how flurried he was at the moment, for his most important association with Aquitaine was the true about his birth.

"Brother, you speak excellent Occitan," Archer joined Carter in praising Robin. "It is very commendable that you speak several foreign languages so well."

"I learnt Occitan and five other languages in childhood," Robin said, smiling to himself. "Sir Edward of Knighton hired for me a competent tutor. I studied literature, arts, military deal, languages, philosophy, mathematics, and many other interesting things." He chaffed as he recalled his classes in childhood. "I didn't want to study at first, preferring to run around in Locksley and spend time in the woods. But the old scholar managed to awake an interest in studies in me, and in the end I studied very hard, which predisposed my neglect of Sir Edward's lessons in the administration of my estates."

"Oh, you were a very naughty child," Will interjected. He finished a cup of wine.

"Robin, your talents are awe-aspiring," Archer appraised Robin's abilities highly as he poked his half-brother's shoulder playfully. He regretted that he hadn't grown up with Robin, loathing Malcolm for abandoning him. "I know five languages, but I learnt them during my voyages in the East."

"I also learnt Arabic in the Holy Land," Robin added.

"I was stunned how proficient your Arabic is, Robin," Djaq commented with respect. "Actually, Carter and Archer know Arabic very well, and I was impressed too."

Archer grinned. "We impress everyone! It just cannot be otherwise!"

Carter shook his head, sniggering. "Robin and Archer, your immodesty isn't fake, and it isn't merely coincidental either. You both are conceited and cheeky men."

"Oh, yes, yes, yes," Robin purred in most cheerful tones. "The only shame is to have no shame at all. But it is not our case, for we are people with great conscience." He laughed festively.

"Straight to the point!" Archer laughed. "Yet, if you are ashamed of something, you are like a drowning man who claws his way to the top of his savior and then pushes the poor man under the water."

"And you not only push your savior under the water, but also scratch his skin and bite him with your teeth to get your way," Carter murmured, rubbing his cheek.

Robin gave a wry smirk. "Maybe this savior needs to take swimming lessons."

"Oh, your witty barbs are quite pleasing to our ears," Djaq said with a smile.

"Indeed," Will agreed, smiling.

They stopped talking as they noticed two hooded men enter the tavern. They heard the newcomers ask one of the servants about the hooded visitors who should have already been there; those people obviously were Sir William de Longchamp and Sir Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester. Then they nodded at one of the tavern girls and stalked towards the most distant table in the alcove. Their feet were shod with fine leather boots, and their clothes made out of expensive and fashionable materials. Without the slightest doubt, they were those whom Robin and the others were waiting for an hour.

Robin stood up, his heart pounding harder in anticipation. He wanted to meet his dear and old friend Robert for so many months, knowing that his supposed death caused a lot of pain to the other man.

Robin and Robert stood before each other, and nobody dared move. A hush settled in the tavern, and everyone's attention was centered on the mysterious meeting between the two hooded men.

The Earl of Leicester chose a moment to cover the remaining distance between them in several strides, and then he pulled Robin into his arms. Robin returned the embrace, wrapping his arms around his friend's back. They stayed in this position for a long moment, offering each other, as always, their deep affection, unfailing friendship, and sunny happiness to see each other again.

Robert drew back and looked at Robin from under his hood. "Robin, my dear friend," he greeted, tears shining in his pale green eyes. "You are alive! You are alive!"

Staring blindly at Robert's handsome face shadowed by his hood, Robin felt tears sting his eyes. "Robert, my beloved Robert," he murmured. "You see I still have a chance to bewitch you and mould you into a little bird, like me." A little smile flashed across his expressive face. "But this time we will cross the Channel together and fly to England, not the Mediterranean Sea, like we once jested."

Robert smiled. "I don't care where we will fly if I am with you."

"I don't mind going anywhere with you because we are always setting the heather on fire," Robin said quietly, but his roguish grin was audible in his voice. His blue eyes sparkling, he hugged his friend fiercely again. He felt alive, so very alive, after his reunion with Melisende and Robert.

The others were smiling, happy because Robin was happy to see his best friend.

As the two friends finally disentangled from their second embrace, Robert scrutinized Robin. "How are you feeling, Robin?" he enquired solicitously. "Are you really alright?"

"Please don't worry about me, Robert," Robin hurried to calm him. "My life was in grave danger in the Bedouins' camp and then in Jerusalem, but now I am more or less alright."

A frown contorted Robert's forehead. "Sir William told me that you are not feeling well."

Robin sighed. "Now I feel better than I felt at the time of departing from Acre," he said, quietly making an effort to conquer his emotions. "Now we have more pressing matters on an agenda."

"I have some news about the king. We should go to the inn," Robert said gruffly.

Robin nodded wordlessly, turned around, and motioned his friends to stand up. Carter paid their bill, surprising the servant girl, who liked Archer, by giving her two gold coins and not asking for change. They left the tavern, accompanied by peery glances of the Crusaders; some of them guessed whether they had fought alongside with one of the hooded men in the Holy Land, but they had no idea as to whom they really were – King Richard's masked favorites.

They walked out of the tavern and into the rain, and the murmurs followed them as they walked. When they arrived in the inn, Will and Djaq retired to their room; during all this time, Tuck stayed in the room which he had shared with Carter. Robin, Carter, Robert, Archer, and William de Longchamp headed to the chamber shared by Robin and Archer.

The pelting rain assaulted Calais as soon as they entered the inn, and they were pleased to be in the warm room again. They flung off their wet cloaks and then seated themselves at the table, with Robin taking the closest place to the hearth. A fire blazed in the hearth, and a lamp burned on the table.

Being mildly nervous under the neutral façade, William de Longchamp eyed the group of the king's men, resting his gaze at Robin for an unguarded instant and smiling. Then his eyes drifted to Robert. "Now, Robert, please tell our friends what you have learn about the king."

"Should your brother stay, Robin?" Robert was surprised to learn that Archer was Robin's half-brother, all the more a half-brother of Guy of Gisborne whom he despised with all his heart.

Archer flinched inwardly as a tremor of nervousness went through him, his eyes fixed at Robin. "I can leave if you want, brother."

"Stay, Archer," Robin permitted with a smile. Running his eyes over the others, he announced, "I trust Archer with my life."

Robert regarded Archer; then his gaze flew to Robin. "Well, if you trust him, that's enough for me."

"Robert, what do you know about King Richard?" Carter's impatient voice resonated.

"I tend to think that King Richard is alive, but it looks like he was _taken captive somewhere in the Holy Roman Empire_," Robert de Beaumont delivered a blow to them.

Robin felt as if he had been thrown into a bottomless abyss of despair with the news. "Please tell us everything, Robert," he spelled out in a beseeching manner.

"Of course." Robert smile dismally. "I left Normandy and traveled to Marseilles in a merchant's disguise and only in my loyal squire's company. I was trying to find a trace of King Richard in the Duchy of Toulouse, in the south of France, and in Italian lands." He sighed. "And I almost succeeded."

"What did you find out there?" Carter hurried to ask.

Robert stared into the flames dancing in the hearth. "When I was in Marseilles, I heard from one of the Knights Templar that Richard had posed as a pirate at Cyprus and as a merchant at Corfu." He laughed morbidly, the sound that was both painfully strained and tragic. "Later I met a party of pilgrims, who swore that they had seen Richard in Brindizi and then in Venice."

Robin's light brow flicked upward. "Any other rumors, Robert?"

"In fact, it was not idle gossip. Richard did visit Brindizi and Venice," Robert continued, his eyes never leaving Robin's face. "I went to Brindizi, where I learnt that King Richard was indeed there, together with a handful of his most loyal subjects." He paused, sighing deeply. "Bad weather forced Richard's ship to cast anchor at Corfu, in the lands of the Byzantine Emperor Isaac II Angelos. That was bad for him, as the man was highly displeased with the annexation of Cyprus by Richard."

Archer fell into pensiveness. "Well, the Byzantine Emperor must have been outraged when King Richard annexed Cyprus that is the former part of Byzantine." He sighed. "And if the king was seen in Italy, then it means that he sailed from Corfu only in the company of his most trusted people. Then he was probably shipwrecked somewhere near the shores of the Italian Peninsula."

"The lands of Italy and Provence were entertained by the rumors of King Richard's incredible adventures on the way from Acre to Aquitaine," de Longchamp intervened, his voice urgent but still steady. "Some unfortunate events seemed to have made our king change his travelling plans."

Robert sighed, his mind teetering on the threshold of complete despair as he thought of the king. "I found out that Richard's journey from Acre to Corfu was uneventful, when he traveled disguised as a Knight Templar. On Corfu, Richard changed his disguise, and, dressed in the garb of a humble pilgrim, he boarded the pirate vessel that was soon wrecked near the island of Lacroma, near Aquileia. Then the king and the other members of the crew took another ship and travelled to Ragusa, where the king parted ways with the pirates; he rewarded them generously, and they glorified him for that."

"Let me guess what happened further," Robin spoke in a steady voice that was still edged with notes of fear and trepidation, which he was struggling to conceal. "After paying the pirates, he journeyed through Italy in a pilgrim's disguise, escorted by his men and keeping rich garments, jewels, and money packed in their trunks on their horses."

Archer's brows shot up. "How do you know that, Robin?"

Robin smiled knowingly. "I can guess what our king will do in many situations," he answered, sitting up straighter in his chair. "But at times, the king's mind still seems unreadable even to me," he added, his mind flitting back to the years when he had lived in the dark regarding his true relationship with Richard and when he had intercepted the king's wistful glances at him.

"Robin knows King Richard very well after being at our liege's side for many years," de Longchamp stepped into the breach to aid Robin, looking at Robin kindly. He still remembered how young Richard, Edward of Knighton, and two more of Richard's trusted knights had saved Robin from Bailiff Longthorn.

Robin nodded at de Longchamp gratefully and closed the topic, "Yes, I have known our king since my early youth." He turned his head away, staring into the flames. "I am sure that King Richard took an inland route through the Holy Roman Empire. After the shipwreck, he had to travel avoiding France in order not to fall into the hands of King Philippe."

"Don't forget about Duke Leopold of Austria," Carter amplified the list of the king's enemies.

Robert released a sigh of vexation. "But our king is a fearless man: he decided that travelling through the territory of the Holy Roman Empire was less dangerous than through the French territory." He rose to his feet and began pacing the room as nervousness overtook him. "I, too, took an inland route through central Europe, and I heard strange things there."

"What did you hear?" Robin asked anxiously.

Robert stopped in the middle of the chamber, his eyes darting between Robin and de Longchamp. "During my journey, I stayed in remote villages, in small and isolated inns, like Richard himself would have done. I collected some information here and there, and then in one of villages near Vienna, I heard rumors that a relatively young, handsome man, dressed as a pilgrim, but with impeccable manners, was seen in several taverns and inns in the southern German lands. That man spoke perfect Occitan and hummed something in Occitan under his breath."

"It must be the king," Carter asserted. "Everyone could have recognized Richard the Lionheart even in a peasant's disguise. There is something in our king that betrays his kingship in any clothes."

A long silence reigned in the room. It was clear that the man was King Richard. Richard spent most of his life in Aquitaine, where his court was a gathering place for musicians and troubadours, and he had a great love for music and poems written in Occitan, his other native tongue in addition to Norman-French. The lion himself composed many songs in Occitan and often hummed them quietly.

"There is no official information about Richard's whereabouts," Robert declared. "We only know that our liege was seen last somewhere near Vienna."

Carter looked startled. "Was the king alone when he was seen in those inns?"

Robert shook his head. "He was together with only three other men."

Robin twisted his fingers nervously as he tried to put his thoughts into words. Then he said bluntly, "André de Chauvigny was appointed captain of the king's private guard after my death. I am sure that André did everything to keep our king safe, but he is not God. If there were fewer men with the king in Vienna, then it means that they could have been attacked somewhere, and some of them were killed." His heart collapsed in his chest; he was barely able to speak. "They could have escaped once or twice, but if they were surrounded and outnumbered, then I fear that the king was really taken prisoner."

"But they won't hurt or kill the King of England," Archer said speedily.

"They didn't hurt the king only if the royal party was attacked by the men of the Holy Roman Emperor or Duke Leopold of Austria," Carter clarified, hesitant to continue.

"But if they were the Black Knights, then it was a different story, a very woeful story," William de Longchamp voiced Carter's fears.

"Exactly." Robert's voice was grave.

"However, it is unlikely that the Black Knights attacked the king in Italy or in Austria," Robin opined with a veneer of grim satisfaction. "It looks like you, Robert, were right: I agree that our king was captured in the Holy Roman Empire."

"Yes." Robert gave a slight nod.

"If the king was abducted and kidnapped, ransom must be paid for him, or he should be released through diplomatic negotiations," de Longchamp ventured to say. His chest heaved with frustration. "We cannot help him escape. If we do that, war with the emperor's troops will unfold simultaneously with the ongoing France's attacks in Normandy, and that will destroy the Angevin Empire."

"In the first place, we should find the king," Robert set the priority.

A dark shadow crossed Carter's face. "But the news we have are not pleasant at all."

"Everything is so uncertain," Archer lamented.

"We will save the king," Robin took an oath, his expression determined, and his eyes shifting into the cold clarity that only readiness for battle could bring. "We will save him," he repeated, as if he needed to reassure himself. In a moment, his eyes were already overflowing with deep-rooted, implacable hatred for the Black Knights. "And Prince John and the Black Knights will pay for treason."

A frown creased his forehead, and Robin stared sightlessly into the emptiness. Only the English Channel separated him from England and his mission to restore justice and topple Prince John and the Black Knights. Robin Hood was alive and was going to save King Richard, England, and the people again.

**The End**

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><p><strong>The third part of the long epic (trilogy) – "Quintessence of Life: Fight for Peace" – is the final part of the trilogy. Having been officially declared dead but having survived his grave wound, Robin returns to England only to discover that King Richard disappeared on the way from Acre. No longer enemies, Robin and Guy fight against Prince John and the Black Knights as brothers-in-arms, assisted by Archer and others.<strong>

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><p><em>It was the last chapter in the second part of the trilogy "Quintessence of Life", and I do sincerely hope that you enjoyed this story. Thank you very much for being with me throughout this year!<em>

_Robin and Melisende reunited, and Robin confessed his love for her. He was brutally honest with her: he told her that part of his heart still belongs to Marian, and it is true that Robin still loves Marian. In fact, Robin is torn between Melisende and Marian – he loves both women in his own way, he loves each of them differently. There is a love triangle of Robin, Marian, and Melisende, and it will be resolved in the third part of the epic. What you need to know is that Robin will never betray Melisende: he is a married man and he has a son, and he is not a libertine who sleeps with women just for pleasure – he is a man who always tries to do the right thing, even if it hurts him._

_One of Melisende's ladies-in-waiting turned out to be Prince John's spy, who wasn't very fond of Robin Hood. I needed this little twist to convey the important message to the readers – the old Robin Hood is dead (or almost dead), and the new Robin is a more ruthless and more pragmatic man, who is also more willing to kill the king's enemies. After his death, Robin became disillusioned and disenchanted with life, but in the next part of the epic "Fight for Peace" you will see that Robin didn't change entirely – it will happen when he will finally overcome his confusion. _

_In this chapter, you also saw the difference between Robin's two beloved women: Melisende belongs to royalty, and she is more ruthless, cunning, and at times even guileful, while Marian is in a different situation just because she wasn't born in a royal family. I don't think that it will be too spoilerish if I say that Marian and Melisende are going to have several very dramatic moments in "Fight for Peace" when they will have to face one other, each of them aware that Robin is torn between them. _

_In this chapter, I continued developing Guy's redemption arc, and I also tried to show the depths of Guy's repentance. Now he is a different man, who knows how bad he was and that his life was largely misspent. Megan and Guy have already become two comrades, almost friends, incarcerated within the walls of a living hell in the dungeons. Megan was unhinged and stills struggled to accept the fact of their impending death, while Guy accepted his death. _

_Guy was again tortured, this time by Rotherham, which created the unbridgeable animosity between the two. Don't worry – Guy will survive and will take his revenge against his enemies. Robin is on his way to England and he needs only to cross the English Channel, but the storm is an impediment, and the readers may understand that he will share up the things. For your info, the torture applied to Guy is called "Heretics Fork", and it was used by the Spanish inquisition in the Middle Ages._

_As I wrote in author's notes to one of the chapters, there will be a drama between Marian, Megan, and Guy in "Fight for Peace." I pinpointed how Megan and Marian are different: Megan has a better understanding of human nature and a greater personal maturity, which Marian lacked. In the series, I often felt that Marian didn't understand the effects of holy war on Robin, although it is fair to say that Robin himself didn't admit her to his inner world due to his emotional reticence. Marian is a great character, but I think that she needs to do a bit of growing up. My Megan is wiser and more mature than BBC's Megan, and she is also more mature than Marian in some ways. I can give you a small insight: Marian is going to finally mature during the months of her separation from Robin and Guy._

_I hope that my readers noticed Guy became less cynical and less selfish as he wants to save Megan's life, considering her an innocent victim of Prince John's ambitions to steal the crown and crafty political games. I promise that in the next part of the epic Guy will have his own moments of heroism, and he will deserve Robin's respect and in some moments even admiration. Guy will repay his debt to Robin for Robin's deathbed plea to grant Guy a royal pardon, but Robin and Guy won't become friends – they will be only allies. Please bear in your mind that Guy will never be as heroic and noble as Robin Hood, but he will become a better version of himself._

_Robin learnt that King Richard was taken prisoner somewhere in the Holy Roman Empire! The information about King Richard's adventures on the way back to Acre is historically correct._

_During this year, I received some reviews and messages from Guy fans asking me to get rid of Robin and make Guy the leader of Robin's band. I am well aware that an awful lot of Guy fans hate Robin and consider him an arrogant, egotistical, and spoiled brat, which is a mistake in my view. If it is your case, you must know that Robin will continue being a consistently better man than Guy, and no hateful reviews about Robin will change this fact. Robin will lead Guy, Archer, and his friends in their quest to save King Richard and defeat the Black Knights because he is the king's savior and it is his fight, not Guy's, strictly speaking; moreover, the canonical Guy is not a leader – he is a follower. I portray characters as close to canon as I can, and if you dislike Robin, I fear it is not your story. This is a story for Robin and Guy fans or at least for those Guy fans who feel some sympathy to Robin._

_"Quintessence of Life: Fight for Peace" has an unusual end for most of the readers. I doubt that anyone can guess what will happen to the characters, except for those who consulted me on this writing project._

_The third part of the trilogy is more tragic than the previous two parts, and there are two deaths of the important characters in the plotline (don't be afraid – they are not Robin and Guy). Rest assured that Guy is going to find his happiness and peace. Robin has a bittersweet end because I have always considered Robin a more tragic character than Guy, but he will find peace in the very end. Some events and changes in pairings will displease a bunch of the readers, but I tried very hard to leave both Robin/Marian and Guy/Marian shippers satisfied with the finale of the trilogy. Unfortunately for a certain cohort of the readers (no spoilers), I cannot change the outcome for Robin, Marian, Guy, Megan, and Melisende because the story is fully written and just requires two rounds of editing._

_Thank you for reading "Mysteries Unveiled", and stay tuned because I hope to start posting "Fight for Peace" in January. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! _

**_Reviews are always appreciated, including well-grounded criticism._**

_If you find any typos and/or mistakes here, please let me know about them in a private message. _

_Thank you for reading this chapter. Have a lovely weekend._

_Yours faithfully, Penelope Clemence_


	19. Author's Note

My dear readers,

"Quintessence of Life: Mysteries Unveiled", the second part of the trilogy, won't be updated anymore.

I hope you liked this novel/story and will give a try to the third part of the trilogy "Fight For Peace". I personally like "Fight for Peace", where Robin and Guy become allies and fight against Prince John and the Black Knights as brothers-in-arms, more than the two other parts. I hope to start posting "Fight for Peace" in January or February.

Thank you for attention. I wish you to have a good day. Your reviews are always appreciated.

Penelope Clemence


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